Conversations
by suchlostcreatures
Summary: "I severed the bond." She repeats. Words grinding like sand between her teeth. "No you didn't," he counters, "you just closed the door." - A series of one-shots which will eventually form one cohesive (somewhat) fic. Reylo vibes. Slowburn.
1. Chapter 1

**Conversations**  
 **\- Part I -**

The kriffin' bond has been bridged once more.

She senses his presence as she enters the solitude of her sleeping hut. Feels it as a sudden stillness in both the Force and the air around her. As if the very universe is at this moment holding its breath. But such a comparison is too vague when, in truth, she can sense him more accurately than that. Like a black thread woven into a white cloth, his Force signature is a strained web of darkness amidst the light. Stretched taut like a bowstring ready to snap. She can feel him there in those blackened threads. The churn of his emotions. The raw tumultuous anger. The deep aching loneliness. The sharp twisting grief. That… That's an unexpected one.

She snaps her own feelings shut. His problems are his own.

"You're not here." She states crisply, taking care to hold her voice steady against the prickle of apprehension that has begun its crawl from the nape of her neck; to run in shudders across her skin. "I severed the link."

He remains silent as she turns to confront him. His face hidden behind the fathomless darkness of his cowl. She squeezes her eyes closed, knuckles pressed to her sides; willing the cloaked figure before her to fade. Perhaps, she hopes futilely, this is all just a dream. Has she already lain upon her bench? Exhausted by the efforts of her day? Perhaps so. Perhaps she need only refocus her energy - to will herself to wake, and it will be so. And he will be gone.

"You're right about one thing." The voice is calm. Steady. "I'm not really here."

Ah, but there is an edge to his tone. It betrays him in those final three words. Irony? Of course. No doubt he's as unwilling to be forced into this communication as she.

"I severed the bond." She repeats. Words grinding like sand between her teeth.

"No you didn't," he counters, "you just closed the door."

"Why, Ben?" She wonders if he will correct her over the hated use of his old name. There's an anger surging within her veins that threatens to boil over at any moment. To spill from her in a torrent of rage. No. _It's not the Jedi way._ The phrase almost makes her snort.

"Why, what?" His tone has changed. Lightening where she expects shadows. She wonders how he can keep himself so composed. Perhaps, she thinks, she's not the only one holding her eyes closed.

"It's been a long time." She begins tersely. "Why are you here now?

"I'm not here, remember? I thought we'd established that already."

He's laughing at her, she realises. Mocking her! Pushing herself to her feet, Rey snaps open her eyes and springs forward; one hand outstretched towards her bo-staff as she uses the Force to call it to her fingertips.

He holds his ground unflinching as she whirls the weapon, slamming it into his form. _Through_ his form.

There's nothing. No waver. No ripple. No transfer of energy. The staff simply sweeps through his body as if passing through thin air. Which, of course, it is. Frustration causes her skin to flush. What does she really expect? That she'll be able to touch him through the Force as she had on Ahch-To? Shaking her head, she drops the weapon with a clang upon the dirt floor. Feels the anger ebb uselessly beneath her skin.

"I see you're still in need of a teacher." The cowl has slipped back just enough for the chamber light to cast a golden glow upon the lines of his jaw. It dances the high arch of his cheekbones. His face has grown impossibly gaunt since they fought the Praetorian Guards side by side. But those sharp planes and deep hollows are all she can see, and suddenly she longs to bare the rest of his face. He can keep his tone neutral all he likes. But his eyes can't lie. Not to her.

"And I see you're still in need of a friend."

It's a bold choice of words. Had she taken just a nano-sec to think before speaking, she would have sooner swallowed her tongue. But it's done now. She's flung open a door. And she has no idea what now lays beyond it.

A sharp intake of breath. It is, for a moment, all that breaks the silence. And then, in a heartbeat, he is gone.

But he has left one thing in his wake.

That ache of loneliness?

Oh yes.

She feels it now.

This is, she realises wretchedly, how it feels to have a door close on your face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Conversations**  
 **\- Part II -**

"How did you feel, after you killed Snoke?"

The abrupt voice at his back startles Kylo Ren into flinching. Caf sloshes over the edge of his cup, hot upon his sleeve as he sets it down at his well-polished permasteel desk. He hadn't felt the Force bond opening between them; the telltale vacuum of sound and shift in perception failed to alert his senses.

The fact of this is almost as unsettling as the scavenger's question.

"What do you mean?" guarded, stalling even, he turns slowly to face the girl. For the barest second his gaze flicks over her face, catching the dark scowl and stern press of her lips before dropping to take in the coarse brown robe and the hilt of the broken saber at her belt. A sharp pang twists at his stomach. He's not sure if it's over the loss of that saber, or fact that she's wearing Jedi garb.

"Well, did you feel _anything_? Guilt? Grief?" Her words punch the air like accusations and he wonders where she's heading with this. "Or was it no different than killing your father?"

Ah. There it is. They're having _this_ conversation again.

He leans back against the bench, appraising Rey openly now as he idly wonders if he can press her into enough discomfort to make her forget the question. In the pause of silence, he reaches out with his mind. Just a little. Just to test if he can get a read on her despite their distance being so much greater than the four feet of durasteel flooring between them would suggest.

"Well?" She presses. Gaze unnervingly direct. And so full of mounting rage.

Sighing, he gives up on trying to skim her mind. Either he can't across this distance, or she's learnt how to deflect him.

"I felt released." He answers at last. Calmly; the words a confession uttered into an abyss. "When I killed Snoke. I felt released. I felt... free."

It's as if a weight has lifted, to say this aloud. Almost as much as the act of killing his Master had been. But his answer puzzles her. He doesn't need to probe her mind to know this - he can see the uncertainty flicker across her face before she can shelve it. And as much as he knows he should tell her to mind her own business and break off this connection, he finds himself suddenly wanting to elaborate just a little more. Like an uncorked bottle ready to spill.

"For as long as I can remember, Snoke was in my head. Crooning. Threatening. Guiding. Cajoling. Even as a child -" He stops, breath catching as he realises he's revealed far more than he ever intended. To her. To himself.

"Go on," she urges, taking a half-step closer. And damned if there isn't a trace warmth in her voice to soften that glacial edge. "I'm listening."

"The thing is," he presses himself back, and for a moment he could laugh at the realisation that he's trying to escape this slip of a girl. But that impulse soon passes when he recognises it's his own truth he wants to run from. Even as the words tumble from his mouth nonetheless. "I became so used to his presence at the back of my mind… I guess I stopped noticing he was there. Until he was gone."

She waits in silence as he gazes into the mid-distance. He had no intention of revealing a word of this - not until he found himself opening his mouth. And now a tightness clenches at his gut as the reality of his words hit him. The truth, it seems, is indeed a bitter pill to swallow. Still, he feels compelled to continue. "It was only when the whispers stilled, that I finally recognised the decisions I wanted to make."

"So he had some kind of hold on you that you didn't know was there?" There's an almost desperate edge of hope to her voice. As if salvaging him really means that much to her. The surprise of it causes his reply to catch in his throat.

He shifts his gaze to meet her own. The earnest gleam in her eyes is almost his undoing. He doesn't need to probe her mind to see she would deal easier with his evil misdeeds if she could convince herself that Snoke's manipulations had been behind each one all along.

"And killing him released you." There's no question in her tone now. And since she's formed a conclusion that works quite neatly to give him the redemption he craves, yet will never deserve, he finds himself nodding. And then he waits for her to bring up Han Solo again. Because that's where she's driving this conversation next, isn't it?

But now the air around them is shifting; the low hum of the Star Destroyer's engines purr into his conscience. The smell of the caf, cooling on his desk, drifts into his awareness. Their Force bond is fading. And damned if there's not a glisten in her eyes as she takes another step towards him; one hand reaching for his own...

Then she is gone.

And he is left to sink into his chair. To rest his elbows upon the musty piles of delicate flimsi at his desk, and bury his head in his hands. The task of sifting through ancient star charts of the Unknown Regions, forgotten.

Besieged by an unacknowledged truth now laid bare, the confession of freedom does nothing to lift the weight of Snoke's oppression from Kylo Ren's shoulders. Instead, it prompts him to recognise his former Master's whisperings for the manipulations they were. And know that he was merely a puppet - led to dance by Snoke's strings.

The drone of engines fade once more as his thoughts drive deeper inwards. The air hangs in frigid suspension as the darkness within him coils and churns, seeking its own ventilation. His hand twitches, longing to beckon his saber to it. To unleash the rage boiling within the pit of his stomach.

Then a hand, feather-soft, settles upon his shoulder. The fingers firm but gentle as they squeeze a reassurance against his tensed muscles. He holds his breath, not daring to move until finally, he exhales with a controlled effort.

"You came back." He manages at last. "How?"

"I don't know." There's a tightness in her voice. "I didn't want to leave you - not like that. You looked…"

 _Wretched_. The word hangs unspoken, but he hears the vibration of it nonetheless.

Anger and shame pierce through him. He doesn't need her pity. He doesn't need anything - not from anyone.

The hand pulls away. As if she's only now realised she reached for him in the first place. In the absence of her warmth, the cold chill returns. Regret washes over him. Perhaps he needs her after all.

"Join me." It's neither a demand nor a question. Damn him, if it's not a plea.

"No."

He can feel her slipping away again and it takes every last ounce of his will to hold himself from drawing her back in. He doesn't _need_ her, he tells himself obstinately. Clenching his jaw against the muscle that twitches traitorously beneath his eye.

"But I'll wait for _you_ to join _me_."

The words echo as if bouncing off the very stars that divide them. And then she's gone once more.

A smile tugs at his lips, despite himself. While he has no aspiration of giving up his position as Supreme Leader of the Galaxy and joining the Resistance or the new Jedi Order or whatever lost cause Rey is a part of, any time soon, he can't help but feel amused by her boldness.

His gaze returns to the star charts before him, though he stares at them unseeing. Snoke indeed manipulated him for most of his life. But Snoke is gone. And he, Kylo Ren, is the Supreme Leader. Light has been shed upon a future that once offered only darkness. And finally, it's allowed him to see that which he's craved all along. That which Snoke sought to keep from him.

Balance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Conversations**

 **\- Part III -**

"I suppose you're training as a Jedi now."

The sudden intrusion snaps Rey from her mediation. Irritation furrows her brow as she presses her lips into a stern line. She hadn't even sensed the bond opening.

"I'm training, yes." Her tone is curt. Enough so to dissuade any further commentary, she hopes.

"That didn't answer my question," he presses, unperturbed by the clear unwelcome.

"No. It didn't." She waits, eyes still closed, anticipating some kind of backlash. A verbal tirade. Something.

But her intruder holds his tongue. Wisely, she thinks. She's in no mood for an argument.

Ideally, she would have preferred him to hold his tongue until she'd at least finished her meditation, and she considers ignoring him until he fades away, just for spite. But the cold press of the dirt floor is making itself known, and a restless part of her is aching to stretch and move and brave the perpetual rain beyond her small hut. She supposes he'll be able to follow her if she leaves.

A resigned sigh starts to escape her as she opens her eyes - only for it to catch in throat as she meets Kylo's direct gaze.

He sits on the floor just a few feet away. His position almost identical. The Force bond caught him in the act of meditation too, she realises.

"Why are you here?" She asks suddenly, irritation whittling her voice into something fierce and demanding.

Kylo shifts his gaze to study his surroundings. "I'm in my personal suite, aboard my personal star destroyer, enjoying personal mediation in my own personal time. Why are _you_ here?"

"I'm…" A frown wrinkles her brow, "I'm not telling you where I am."

"I didn't ask you to." He tilts his head as if listening to something, "you're on a planet. Not a ship."

"How can you -"

"One that has a forest biome, perhaps. I hear the rain." His gaze sweeps upwards, and Rey can't help but follow it, though all she can see is her own roof overhead. "You wouldn't be foolish enough to return to D'Qar. How about..."

Snapping his attention back to her, Kylo's voice lifts in triumph. "You're on Kashyyk. The Wookie's homeworld."

"Don't be ridiculous. You couldn't possibly know where I am." The words tumble from her mouth fast. Too fast. Rey grits her teeth, anger bursting in orange flares in her peripheral. The fact that _he_ sits there so serenely with a half-smile warming his stupid face only deepens her rage.

"You're right. I couldn't possibly know. I just guessed." The Darksider leans in so that the fire in the hearth behind her seems to reflect off his eyes in dancing hues of gold and brown. "And correctly, it seems."

On impulse, Rey stretches out with the Force and calls Han's blaster to her hand. She wonders, as she aims it towards Kylo's head, if it'll pass through the wall of her hut this time. Or the back of his skull.

"I'm not here with the Resistance," she says shakily, hoping she won't have to find out, "I'm just here to bring Chewie home. He has a family here. And…" pausing to smudge a stupid angry tear from an eye, Rey takes a quick deep breath before continuing, "and…"

"It's his son's birthday." Kylo finishes, his voice soft.

"I… How did you know?" The blaster wavers in her grasp. Slowly Rey lowers it to her lap, keeping it in her hand. Ready.

"I've known that Wookie longer than you," Kylo leans back, taking the fire's reflection with him, "no matter where in the galaxy he is, Chewie always returns home for his son's birthday."

There's something wistful in the way he says it. For a moment Rey wonders if Han ever made the point of returning for his own son's birthday. She bristles at the traitorous turn of her thoughts. Han was a good man. Kylo's merely a snake trying to elect her sympathy.

"So what will you do?" she presses tersely, aware that his gaze has dropped to the blaster in her lap; his brow pursed in a sceptical frown.

"Do?" He flicks his attention back to her. Wide-eyed and innocent.

It's Rey's turn to lean in now. Fierce and protective and half-wondering why she hasn't just shot him already. "You know where I am. What are you going to do about it?"

"Ah. You want to know if I'm going to send a squadron to capture you. It's funny that you consider yourself so important," he pauses, chewing his lip thoughtfully, "and you're wondering if you should take the Falcon now. Before I have the chance to give the order. Even though you've promised the Wookie you'll stay for his son's celebration, and he's given up _so much_ for you already…"

"What?" Rey prickles. He was right about everything. Except that last part. "What has Chewie given up for _me_?"

"Well, he gave up Han for starters."

"What? _You_ killed Han!" She cries, jumping to her feet. "How does that have anything to do with me!"

Kylo stands to face her. The fire no longer reflects its warmth in his eyes. "Han wouldn't have been on Starkiller Base if it weren't for you."

In a heartbeat, Rey raises the blaster towards him again. Arm steady this time. Her finger _begging_ to squeeze the trigger. She speaks through clenched teeth with the effort to resist, "Han wouldn't have been on Starkiller Base if it wasn't for _you.._."

A muscle spasm jerks beneath Kylo's left eye. He shifts his gaze to the blaster as if noticing it for the first time. "You're right," he agrees nonchalantly. Then he snaps out his hand and grabs her wrist, jerking it towards the roof so that the shot he forces her to take goes wild; punching through the thatch of the hut.

"Why would I send a squadron when I can just take you for myself?" Twisting her wrist so that the weapon drops uselessly from her fingers, Kylo yanks Rey towards him so that she's forced to throw up her free hand to stop herself from colliding square into his chest.

"What do you think will happen when the Force snaps the bond shut? Will you find yourself on my ship?"

"I think," Rey blinks through the rage and the smart of tears, "it will be you finding yourself trapped in an earthen hut. And then the question will be, who should you fear most; me, or the clan of angry Wookies waiting for you?"

"I think I'd fear you the most," he murmurs, his tone now shifting to a throaty husk that makes her skin flush. His eyes are wide, suitably frightened, even. Though not so much of her, she suspects. And not of the Wookies, either.

He loosens his hold, allowing her to shift herself, though it seems she's still trapped against him. Held in place by leather-clad fingers slipping softly along her arm. Electing goosebumps in their wake.

"What's happening, Ben?" Here? Now? In this room? Between them? She's not even sure what kind of question she's asking. Or what kind of answer she seeks.

A smile tugs at his lips. "You're still holding on."

She frowns, unsure of what he means. And then she's aware of the sounds of her surroundings wooshing back into existence. The cracking fire. The rain pattering in through the unexpected hole in her roof. The throaty wail of a Wookie at the door.

It's only when the last echo of his presence fades from the room, that Rey realises it's her own hands that are still clasping. At the fabric of a tunic that's no longer bunched between her fingers.

* * *

 _Chapter footnote: Am I going to regret uploading this so soon after jotting it down - without allowing time to come back in a week and proof-read with fresh eyes? Yes._

 _Am I going to hit the post button anyway? Also yes._

 _To anyone following Airstrike & Leap of Faith: I am definitely still working on them (sometimes simultaneously), I just had to get this sudden burst of inspiration out of my system. I have another two chapters of inspiration lined up for this fic, so any words of encouragement would be truly appreciated! Hell, words of discouragement would also be appreciated. Though perhaps not quite so enthusiastically. :p_  
 _(Kidding. Go on and tell me I made references to Kylo's eyes/gaze at least three times more than necessary. I can take it.)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author note: This is not the Bataa chapter it was intended to be. I mean, I had a complete 3275-word chapter all ready to go, and then an inspiring question asked by a reader started ticking over in my head and forming itself into something tangible until I had no choice but to follow that plot bunny down the rabbit hole and write it out. So, thank you so much to **UncagedAgent** from Ao3 for wondering if Kylo gets tips from Rey on a sand planet in a future update and compelling the 1661 words that spilt from my brain because of it! Thank you also to those who have left encouragement via comments and kudos, it truly helps to keep me motivated! I'm just sorry if this is a bit rushed and sucky - it's been a crap week and *insert loads of real life excuses here*._

* * *

 **Conversations**  
 **\- Part IV -**

"I hate sand."

Rey blinks, surprised at the instant complaint that greets her the moment the now-familiar distortion of sound heralds the opening of the Force bond. She scrubs a hand to the back of her neck, massaging away the strange electrifying skin-crawl she's also become grudgingly accustomed to. "Well, hello to you too."

Dragging irritably at the collar of his tunic, Kylo turns to face her. "It's coarse and irritating…"

It's as if he's been waiting for someone to grumble to, she thinks dryly, before a pang of empathy worms its way in as she recalls the feeling of rough sand trapped between skin and cloth and crevice.

"Yes," she agrees finally, "and it gets _everywhere_."

The sand becomes a visible thing as it sweeps against his legs and buffers his face. It's strange, she thinks with the quirk of a smile, watching someone react to their surroundings whilst seemingly standing in the midst of your own. She wonders what the mighty Kylo Ren would say if she told him he was currently fending off the elements in the middle of the crew's quarters of the Millenium Falcon.

"Did you not think to at least bring a dust mask and protective eyewear to a sand planet?" She asks conversationally as he throws an arm in the air to fend off a sudden gust of wind.

"It wasn't my intention to - urgh!"

She winces in sympathy, remembering the strike of desert grit against exposed skin; the feeling of being flayed to the bone if it barrages against you long enough. The way it cloys in your nostrils and encrusts your eyelashes until you think you're going to go mad. Or choke. Or both.

"Tear off a strip of fabric and wrap it around your face," she instructs, watching the way his cloak billows fiercely around him as if fighting to tear free and find its own shelter. "If you're on the outskirts of a dust storm, you need to find shelter. What planet are you on?"

"I'm not ripping up my cloak," he answers stubbornly, ignoring her last question, "I just need to find my way back to my ship..."

"You're... lost?" The stab of concern that twists her gut is unexpected. She grits her teeth against it. "Look, if you give me your coordinates I can bring up your location and guide you -"

"I'm not disclosing my location."

Groaning in frustration, Rey strides across the room and stops herself short of shaking him by his big stupid shoulders. "So you'd rather die in a sandstorm than risk confiding in me?"

"Die?" Kylo croaks, blinking at her through sand-dusted lashes, "that's a little melodramatic."

Another gust slams into him, pushing him a step backwards with renewed ferocity. Sand whirls with fresh gusto, banking against his legs before catching the wind and blinking out of sight. Fascinated, Rey wonders if she can reach out and catch some, then half-steps forward to try.

"Damnit!" Spinning so that his back is to the gale, Kylo clamps a hand to his eye.

"Don't rub," she chastises, "you'll only make it worse."

Oblivious to her advice, he grinds a finger against his eyelid while muttering unintelligible grunts of rage at the audacity of the elements.

"Stop!" Unable to put up with it any longer, Rey closes the space between them and encloses her hands around Kylo's own, stilling him to stunned silence. "Do you want to scratch your eyeball?"

Her words are soft and light as she touches a hand to his cheek and turns his face towards her. At this distance, she can feel an echo of the wind that assaults him. At this distance, she can see every minute fleck of ochre in his wide-blown startled eyes.

"Must be some storm, huh?" She murmurs, using an edge of her sleeve to brush away sand as she patently ignores the way her heartbeat has leapt into a careening gallop. It's almost unbearable to hold his steady gaze. To see the heat and hunger that burns so readily within it.

Wordlessly Kylo opens his mouth and closes it again. The wind whips his hair into a maelstrom of ebony locks. He clears his throat and tries again, "Rey, what are you…"

He's trembling beneath her touch, Rey marvels, dropping her eyes to trace the path her thumb now travels along his cheek; taking in the saber scar that will forever mar his face. The smattering of moles across his skin. The full mouth that quivers ever so slightly as she slides her thumb across his lower lip…

A gust of wind reaches past Kylo to barrel into her. She blinks against the onslaught of sand that strikes her own face and snaps her from her reverie.

"What's happening.." she manages, ducking her face against Kylo's chest, even as a part of her warns against such traitorous intimacy.

"I believe you asked me this last time," he says with a hint of amusement, uttering the words against her ear as his hands rest tentatively at her hips to hold her steady.

He's not talking about the storm, Rey realises with a stab of self-consciousness. Pulling away, she averts her eyes; unwilling to witness whatever unguarded emotion might be bared within his own.

"Kylo this is madness, you have to find shelter!" The wind whips the words from her mouth and tosses them to the sky.

"What?" He shouts in unison with the howling gale.

"Shelter!" Rey yells, fearful for the both of them; half-afraid the Force has somehow pulled her across the stars and trapped her in the storm.

"I think… This way!" He draws back, hands sliding along her arms to grasp her fingers.

"No!" Pulling her hand free of Kylo's hold, she's relieved when the wind drops away from her as soon as the contact between them is broken. She's still on the Falcon. Still hurtling through space at hyperspeed. Still safe.

"Ben, I can't follow you." She's not sure why it pains her to say it. She only knows the one thing more painful is the stricken look on Ben's face when his hand closes on emptiness.

Kylo Ren, she reminds herself stoically. You're helping _Kylo Ren_. When he's probably on the planet just to burn another village.

"Rey?"

He stands strong against the wind's fury as if born of fury himself. Black cloak whipping his body, dark hair whipping his face. Concentration set upon his expression like a mask. He's using the Force to hold back the brunt of it, she realises. But still, she _knows_ there's a lost boy looking out through his eyes, pleading for her to stay. To help him. To join him.

"Ben…" Shaking her head, Rey stumbles backwards. She can't bear this. He's the enemy. To her. To the Resistance. He's the worst enemy she could ever know. And here she is, calling him Ben as if he's nothing more than the prodigal son of Han and Leia rather than a power-hungry warlord. What the hell is she thinking?

"Rey! Wait up!"

"I'm sorry," turning away, she squeezes her eyes shut and wills the Force to release her from their bond.

'Rey! Wake up!"

"I can't…" hot tears burn behind her eyelids. Bewilderment raises a prickle of warning in her mind.

"Rey! Wake up!"

Snapping her eyes open, Rey finds herself being shaken by hands that grip her shoulders with the ferocity of a gundark.

"What the hell?" Blinking, she looks around. Confused to find herself in her bunk. A grey Resistance-issue blanket tangled amidst her legs. Her mind groggy with the residue of sleep.

"You've been asleep for ages!" Rose complains, "Finn needs you back in the cockpit. We've had to drop out of hyperspace. There's unexpected asteroid debris out here and we're right in the thick of it. You know he can't pilot this scrapheap like you can."

"Right." Sitting up, Rey kicks the blankets from her legs and takes a moment to gather her thoughts. A long moment.

It was a dream, she realises in giddy relief. It was all a dream. And the solace she takes from _that_ little gem when she remembers the way she practically stroked Kylo's face... Is almost palpable. Once she swallows back the initial burning humiliation.

"I'll be right there." She offers Rose a wan smile and moves to swing her legs over the bunk.

"Sure." Rose stops halfway to the door and turns back to stare at her quizzically. "Hey Rey, just one thing…"

"Hmm?"

"Um.." Confusion crosses Rose's face as if she's not quite sure how to broach her question. "What's with the sand?"

"Sand?"

She understands as soon as she opens her mouth to ask. It's strewn through her bedding. Powdered on her skin. Mortified, she rakes her fingers through her hair and feels it collect under her nails and rain down upon her shoulders.

It wasn't a dream. She groans inwardly, speechless as her mind tries to grasp what this means. Then, aware that some kind of coherent answer is expected, she reaches for anything least likely to inspire further questions.

"It's… It's a Force thing, " she mutters, " I was training in my sleep."

"Okay then," Rose shrugs, baffled by all things Force-related at the best of times, "see you in a couple."

It was just a dream, Rey insists to herself vehemently, heading for the fresher.

But somehow, her inner voice whispers back to her as the guilt and intrigue and worry and sadness churn anew through her stomach, it was anything but.

* * *

 _Another note: 'Conversations' was originally intended as a series of Force bond one-shots not necessarily linked from one chapter to the next or even linear for that matter. But along the way, I've developed the sketchy outlines of a plot that involves bringing it all together along the track. I'm just not sure whether to or not to weave these chapters into a bigger picture or keep them as separate or just loosely-related Force conversation standalones, forever. What are readers hoping for? Feedback is welcome!_

 _Last thing (I'm really on a rambling role), the song I listen to most while writing my Reylo fics is Still, by Daughter. If you haven't listened to it yet, I strongly suggest it if you enjoy beautiful angst. Last last thing... If you're on Tumblr, come say hello to me_ _acowlorsomethng :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author note:** Oh I appear to have thrown a hydrospanner in the works! The aim of Conversations was to create a series of force bond one-shots that kinda all tie together while still standing on their own, but… Now I've taken a small divergence from that plan. I'm sorry folks. I just left that last chapter in need of a follow up (or so my brain decided when I started typing this one) and I figure I just have to go with it and hope I don't completely ruin everything._

 _I'll get back on track with the one-shot force bond conversations very soon. I promise! But for the moment, this chapter and the next will directly link to Chp 4. I hope you can endure me!_

 _Also, thank you so much to those who've added this fic to their Fav or Follow list. Writing these last couple of chapters has been a much-needed means of de-stress and source of escapism at the moment, and knowing people are enjoying this story has been uplifting. :)_

* * *

 **Conversations**  
 **\- Part V -**

"...I mean... what I'm saying, Ben, is that I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry I didn't stay with you. No, no. Ignore that last bit. I don't mean to imply that I wish I'd stayed. I just… I just don't know what I'm on about, really."

The whisper-soft words end on a note of frustration as Rey yanks a handful of red wires from an ancient imperial probe droid and turns her attention to the blue. She works automatically; her fingers going through the motions of sifting through wires and tracing them to their components, while her mind is fixed on the memory of dark wind-whipped hair, pleading eyes and an outstretched hand.

"It's stupid - utterly stupid - that I'm losing sleep over this. Are you worth it? Of course not. But it's been three weeks, Ben," sighing, Rey leans back on her haunches and considers the droid's damaged shell with a sceptical eye. "Three weeks. And I still haven't heard from you."

"Heard from who?"

Jumping in surprise, Rey sends the droid toppling as she turns towards the cargo hold entrance.

"Heard from who?" she repeats dumbly.

"Heard from…" Finn pauses, puzzled. "Rey, that's what I just asked you."

"Right, of course," grabbing a rag, she wipes it over her forehead, unwittingly leaving a smudge of grease across her brow before pointing to a tray of tools behind him. "Can you hand me the hydrospanner?"

Without shifting his focus, Finn reaches behind himself, snatches up a laser pointer and throws it to her. "Heard from _who_ , Rey?"

"My parents," she offers weakly. "I pretend to talk to them. Outloud. Sometimes."

"Uh-huh..." Sweeping a sceptical gaze across the cargo hold, Finn's suspicion soon caves as he steps forward to lay a gentle palm upon her shoulder. "You've been pretty quiet since we left Kashyyyk. Is there something you want to talk about?"

"No?" Rey shrugs, a tight smile flashing across her face before she grabs the hydrospanner for herself and turns back to the droid.

"Because you know you can talk to us, right?" Finn presses, stepping around Rey to try and get her attention. "Rose and I, we…"

He trails off as Rey begins unmounting the life form scanner from atop of the droid's binocular dome head. "What's with your fascination with fixing this old thing, anyway?"

"Thought it might come in handy," she says nonchalantly, "for reconnaissance."

"Right," Finn nods, "good call."

A frown crinkles his face again as a new thought alights, "So this has got nothing to do with the obsession you seem to have with scouting every sand planet in the galaxy?"

"I'm not obsessed with -"

"Seven planets, Rey," he interrupts. "We've been to _seven_ sand planets in the past few weeks. How many more do you have lined up? Because we haven't been to Tatooine or Pasaana yet, and..." his voice drops to a harsh whisper, "if you tell me we're going to Jakuu, I'm gonna ask you to drop me off at Hoth because there is _no way_ -"

"Relax, Finn," with the life form scanner unmounted, Rey buries her attention deeper into her work as she begins unscrewing a plate from the domed head. "I'm done with sand planets. I've purged them from my mind."

Finn groans, shoulders buckling in defeat. "We're going to Jakku, aren't we?"

Biting her lip, Rey turns away from her project and offers her friend an apologetic smile. "We're going to Jakku."

* * *

A light breeze sends warm drifts of Jakku sand across the plateau where Rey has chosen to land the _Falcon_. He's been here. Somewhere out here. She can feel it. The lingering remnants of his presence sends soft vibrations through the Force. Opaque threads that hum, ever so faintly now, in a note she knows to be uniquely his own. Like a signature, her instincts tell her.

But where?

From her vantage point, she can see the Goazon Badlands stretching for miles; the undulating dunes interrupted only by the skeletal remains of Imperial and New Republic starships. Relics of the Battle of Jakku, long picked clean.

A pang of sadness flutters helplessly in Rey's stomach. She swallows hard against memories of long hot days toiling amidst wreckage for any scrap of salvage that might have helped sustain her. Of freezing nights that somehow felt even longer because of the deep aching loneliness they provoked.

There's a terrible emptiness that opens up inside oneself when you're missing someone, she thinks. As if something has split open your chest and scooped out the insides - only to replace them with rattly old ghosts and echoes that taunt you with memories of what was, and what might have been.

For months, being part of the Resistance has given Rey a type of sustenance she'd never been able to find on Jakku. The feeling of being a part of something important. An ever-moving cog within a great engine of change and hope and… More than that. Being part of the Resistance has given her a feeling of _belonging_. Of being surrounded by friends who have become like family.

Still, a deep dull pocket of emptiness remains. And with each passing week; grows deeper. The worst thing is, she knows the cause of it. She just can't think of the solution. Perhaps, she thinks, it's her destiny to be alone. Perhaps that's better than the alternative.

"Ready, Rey?"

Rose's voice rouses Rey from her melancholy. Nodding wordlessly, she balances the droid on its articulated legs and performs one last system check before releasing it. Her friends haven't pressed for further explanation as to what she's doing, and with no wish to lie or tell the truth, she's grateful for their discretion.

"So, what's the plan now?" Finn steps to her side, eyes sweeping the miles of desert stretched out below as the droid lifts off the ground and disappears over the edge of the plateau. "Do we wait here or head to orbit?"

Orbit, Rey's intuition shrieks. They're miles from Niima Outpost, but an apprehensive feeling deep in her gut tells her it's only a matter of time before Plutt gets wind of the Falcon's return and sends a mob to try and wrangle it back for him.

Though she'd like to see them try, she thinks with sudden ferocity; hand checking the blaster at her hip before sliding to the staff at her back.

At the prickle of imagined conflict, the Force thrums at Rey's fingertips like some dark thing itching to tear free and strike down her illusionary enemies. She swallows hard, as if that raw primeval urge can just be digested and forgotten. It terrifies her, how quick her instincts are to tap into the veins of darkness she can sometimes feel pulsing through the Force. It terrifies her, how easily her mind can embrace such imaginings.

"Let's get out of here," gritting her teeth, she ignores the strange pulsing at her temple and strides back towards the boarding ramp. "The droid will relay any information it finds."

"So, what kind of information are you hoping for? Exactly?"

The question stops her in her tracks. Finn broaches it with the kind of tension that implies he's had to work himself up to ask it. Mindful of his eyes at her back as he awaits an answer, Rey straightens her spine and tries to produce something that is neither truth nor lie.

"I'm trying to find someone. Someone who… Who I think might be able to help us. The only thing is…" drawing a deep breath, she presses on, "I need to help him first."

"If you think this person can help us," Finn steps to Rey's side, his eyes searching her own as he squares his jaw, "why am I not hearing any conviction? Who exactly is this person?"

"I didn't really think this plan through," Rey offers weakly, desperately wishing she could pedal back through time. Maybe to a point where she could have dropped her friends off at the last vaguely habitable planet, after all.

"Who is he, Rey?" There's an intensity to Finn's gaze that startles her. Has he really only just realised that she's been withholding the specifics of this wild bantha chase she's dragged them on, because of details she doesn't actually want them to know?

"I can't tell you who he is," she says in a rush. "I can only say he might be a First Order defector."

" _Might_ be? So… He might _not_ be?" Finn's voice raises in disbelief, "Rey, what the hell have you got yourself into? What have you got _us_ into?"

"Guys!" Rose's sudden note of distress startles them both. She gestures to the air while stumbling backwards to the boarding ramp. "Guys! We have incoming! It's time to get outta here - now!"

For a moment, Rey's grateful for the interruption. But then the meaning behind Rose's frantic words kick in as the scream of a TIE punctures the sky.

"That's Kylo Ren's fighter! Come on!" Grabbing Rey's hand, Finn reels towards the Falcon, pulling her with him.

"He won't shoot us," Rey strains against his grip. "It's okay, he won't shoot us!"

"Can you hear how crazy you sound right now?" Finn argues, dragging her closer to the boarding ramp. "Cause I can hear how crazy you sound!"

"But he won't shoo -"

The ground around them explodes in a barrage of laser fire as the TIE screams past and immediately begins banking for another run.

"You were saying?" Finn shrieks as they dive into the Falcon and race for the cockpit. "Rey, if we outrun him, you've got some explaining to do!"

* * *

She feels the brush of his conscience against her own as the Falcon punches through the stratosphere. He does not manifest before her. There's no sudden rush of inertia as her surroundings are swallowed into a vacuum. His world is not overlaid with her own.

Not this time.

But she feels his presence all the same. She feels his fear. His wrath. His hatred. And beneath it all, a terrible desire for revenge. She feels it bleeding into the Force with an urgency that sets her nerves on edge.

But none of it is aimed at her.

And it's his fear that startles her the most.

 _Whatever's going on, Ben, just hold on._ She sends the words to him, pushing them through the Force. _I'm coming back for you._

She just hopes that he can hear.

* * *

 _End note: Kylo will be returning in the next chapter._ _I'm sorry I could find no proper place to include him in this one :)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Part VI**

This time, when the Force bridges them, she knows she's asleep. They stand together upon the desert dunes. The sands now still. The air so calm it seems to hang without the slightest movement of breeze.

Ben faces her; arms at ease by his side, legs slightly apart, face devoid of expression. No tell to give away his thoughts. For one who wears his emotions so fully, Rey finds the facade unsettling.

"Have you done this?" she asks, stepping forward until they're a scant few feet apart. "Have _you_ brought me here?"

"Do you think me so powerful?" he raises his brow, a smile toying at his lips; cracking his cool veneer for just a moment. With one stride he narrows the gap. "Or could it be a power that manifests only when the two of us seek each other out?"

 _Why would I care to see you?_ The lie teeters unspoken upon her lips. She opens her mouth to broach it aloud, but the wind chooses its moment to pick up with a twist; peppering sand across her face and whipping Kylo's hair into a frenzy as it dances between them.

Perhaps he hears her anyway. She almost misses the shadow that crosses his face; fierce and frightening. Her stomach wrenches suddenly. In fear of him. In fear of the sudden desire to reach out and smooth his brow with her fingertips.

She stays her hand and holds her ground. Holds against every instinct that urges her to step into his space. Instead, she steps back; blinking against the sudden onslaught. Both of wind and emotions. "Ben, please tell me where you are."

It's like the last time, all over again, she thinks.

"Shouldn't I be asking that of you?" he returns. "Isn't that how this game usually plays out?"

There's something off about his mannerism. Something that seethes in a way she hasn't seen since Starkiller Base.

"I came here to talk to Ben Solo," she squares her jaw, challenging, "not Kylo Ren."

"You came because I commanded it," he snarls, the eye-twitch starting at last. Except, it's more than just a muscle spasm. It's a shift. A contortion of something terrifying...

"This isn't _you_." The words burst from her as soon as the realisation hits.

He lunges.

She slams the bond shut.

This time when she wakes, there's no trace of sand.

* * *

"You can't be serious about doing this."

"I can, and I am."

Dragging the last box of goods down the cargo ramp, Rey turns to Finn and Rose. "You'll be safe here until I return. And your task is important. The people of this planet are sensitive to the Force. You'll find someone here who can help us. I can feel it."

"You can feel it, huh?" Finn hisses. "Well then, I guess you can feel the way the people here are looking at us, Rey? Cause I sure can! They _feel_ like picking up sticks and swinging them at us. That's the kind of feeling I'm _feeling_!"

"The Bardottan are a peaceful race…"

"I _feel_ like they think we're here to steal their children!" Finn continues, voice rising in pitch until Rose, bemused, places a hand upon his arm.

Rey tilts her head to one side, considering. "Actually, from what I recall of one of Leia's Jedi history lessons, you could be right." And then before he splutters further protest, "look. If all else fails… Trade some goods. Take a break. Enjoy the art."

"And where are you going?"

Biting her lip, Rey prepares to make a quick retreat, "back to Jakku."

" _What!_ "

* * *

There are certain risks that need to be weighed when covertly landing upon Jakku. On the one hand, Carbon Ridge offers the best pick of places to hide from anyone who might steal, scavenge or report the _Falcon_ back to Unkar Plutt. On the other, being in the territory of ripper-raptors and dead-enders is not ideal if one wishes to live long enough to fly out again.

Then there's the Goazon Badlands: Relatively safe from winged predators and human crazies, but teeming with the above-mentioned thieves, scavengers and informants.

In the end, it's the data relayed from the probe droid that prompts Rey's decision.

While she was making the round trip to Bardotta, the old Imperial probot covered forty kilometres of the Goazon; transmitting information of little significance until it reached the Ridge and began combing the cliff faces. That's where it found traces of recent starship debris and human habitation. That's where something activated its self-destruct function, and the information stopped.

Perhaps there isn't anything of importance to be read into that, Rey thinks as she sifts through the data. After all, the only reason why sane folk steer clear of Carbon Ridge is that only the _in_ sane folk go there. And there's a fair few of those who wander the canyons.

Likewise, there's likely nothing unusual about the droid's final transmission regarding a fresh disturbance of cliff face on the northern mountainside. If there's one thing Carbon Ridge is famous for - asides from the carnivorous lizard-birds, white-haired crazies, and wash table rumours of a secret base built by the last Emperor - it's rockslides.

But still, something about it gives Rey the feeling that this is exactly where she needs to be. To find Kylo Ren. To reclaim Ben Solo. To find answers to questions she doesn't even know how to ask yet.

Jakku's stratosphere remains her refuge until three hours before sunrise, when she lands the _Falcon_ within a shallow canyon and waits for the tangerine fingers of sunlight to stretch across the sky. Then, with provisions stashed into a backpack and a few mechanical booby traps put into place to keep sticky hands off her ship, she makes her way through the Ridge. Towards the last location the droid pinged back before its demise.

An hour of hiking through what has become an ever-narrowing gorge and the Ridge offers little retreat from the sun except for slit-eyed caves that likely hold as much danger as the threat of exposure itself.

Two hours in, and the fine hairs at the back of her neck prickle with the warning that she's being watched. The sensation ripples down her spine until she almost twitches with the effort to not turn and study the surrounding cliffs.

Three hours in, and a guttural squawk overhead alerts her to the presence of a ripper-raptor. Two, she realises when she dares to glance up. They ride the thermals in slow lazy circles, their leathery wings stretched wide as they tilt their heads to scan the landscape below with sharp eyes.

Perhaps they haven't seen her, she tells herself as a small knot of worry tightens in her stomach nonetheless. Besides, two is nothing. She can handle two with her eyes closed.

Of course, it would be easier if she were back on solid ground, rather than partway up a deteriorating cliff in search of a cave that may indicate Ben was here. That he's still here.

Gritting her teeth, Rey takes a moment to rest her head against the sandstone before cautiously continuing her ascent. The rippers haven't swooped in for the attack yet. That's a good sign. And she's _so close_ to where the probe droid reported the cave to be.

Another squawk, long and challenging, causes the knot of worry to twist tighter. This call does not come from high above but from somewhere closer. She knows this sound. It's a call to arms. And the call is soon answered by a clamour of screeches that pitch in excitement until Rey can feel every last hair on her body stand on end.

"Rey, what's happening? Where are you?"

The voice punctures through the cries of the creatures. Not from above or below, but inside her head.

"Ben?" She spares a moment to glance about, even though she knows her gaze will fall upon nothing but chalky cliffs and wheeling rippers. She feels that strange sense of being pulled into a liminal space, but this time it's different. This time it's as if his conscience has brushed against her own and made a connection inside her head.

"I can sense you, Rey. I can sense your fear. You need to let me help you."

His voice seems to echo between her ears. She shudders at the alien feeling of having someone else's words - someone else's feelings - reverberate through her body.

"I'm not afraid," she protests aloud, "and I have _everything_ under control."

"You're on Jakku. You're searching for me."

She feels his surprise as if it's her own. He's not asking for confirmation. He knows it to be true.

"Get out of my head," she grunts as rock crumbles beneath the toes of her boots and her fingers dig painfully for purchase.

"I can feel your fear, but I can't get a fix on you." A note of urgency seeps through her. Whether it's her own, or his, she's not sure.

"Rey, I need you to describe your surroundings. A landmark. Something."

The image of a tall cluster of pillared rocks she recently passed rises to the surface of her mind and she squeezes her eyes shut with the effort to press it back down. "How do I know it's really you?"

There's a long pause. For a moment she thinks the link between them has been broken. He replies at last with an edge of curiosity. "Who else do you expect me to be?"

Not Ben Solo. Not Kylo Ren. Someone else. Some _thing_ else, her mind offers silently, recalling the dream. Not that it matters. Regardless of what she chooses to call him, he's still the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He's still a monster. With or without the mask.

"I'll find you, Rey," he says tightly, the words resounding through her with a sense of resignation so heavy she realises there'd been no need to answer aloud - her thoughts had been bared to him anyway. "Like it or not, I'm the only one who can."

And then he's gone. And her mind is her own again. And the screech of the ripper raptors hit her in an explosion of sound as they gather themselves and swoop in for the attack.

Moving without attempt to stay discreet now, Rey throws herself up the steep slope, pushing herself to reach some kind of safe ground where she can make a stand to defend herself, as stone gives way in her hands and cause her to scramble. The sharp press of jagged rock scours her palms and she grits her teeth, almost snarling with the effort to drive herself onwards. Upwards.

The beating of wings sends a flurry of dust around her as a ripper swoops in, it's snapping jaws revealing double rows of needle-sharp teeth that catch at strands of her hair before she pushes out with the Force; sending it hurtling away before turning her attention to the next creature that takes its place. Soon the blowback of crumbling grit overcomes her, forcing her to tuck her face into the crook of her elbow in search of a clear breath.

Leathery wings beat at her skin. Clawed feet sink into her back. She yells out in outrage, pain blinding her as much as the dust. Jaws snap at her legs. Claws tangle in her hair. The rippers shriek in excitement as they close in.

Fighting to quell the panic, Rey gathers the Force to her and throws the creatures off with a great shunt of cosmic energy that causes another three to topple from the sky. Pain and rage surge as she bares her teeth and prepares to fend off the next wave of creatures that circle.

"Up here!"

The modulated voice comes from above. Rey peers through dust-powdered eyes to see a black-gloved hand reaching for her. _Ben_? She throws herself into the distance between them; ignoring the shrieks of the oncoming attack as his hand encloses her own.

* * *

"Lucky for me you don't weigh much."

Rey stares, aghast, at the stormtrooper who stands before her. Ignoring her expression, he rotates his shoulder as if pulling her over the ledge has all but dislocated his arm. Two troopers flank him, sending bolts of plasma energy into approaching ripper raptors with blasters that look like they've come straight from the Imperial era.

"Who -" She swallows the question, unsure if she wants it answered. Not Ben. But stormtroopers. Not First Order. But soldiers wearing armour as old as their weapons. Which means...

"Sir, the birds are retreating." A trooper lowers his blaster and turns towards her rescuer.

"Time we do too," he replies, turning from Rey as if her presence has already been forgotten. She sees a cave entrance behind him and understands suddenly what the probe droid had been reporting to her. Not fresh evidence of Ben, but of old men dressed as soldiers.

Dead-enders.

As a scavenger, she'd heard stories of these guys. None of which ended well. Dead-enders were crazy at best. Barbaric at worst. So it makes no sense for them to save her. Unless they're saving her for themselves.

The chill of childhood fear coils in Rey's stomach. But it's nothing next to the realisation that her efforts have been for nothing. Ben isn't here. He probably never was. And she's wasting time. She steps towards the ledge. Better to take her chances with the rippers.

"Hold it right there."

Fists clenching, Rey feels the Force build within her. _Don't give in to your rage,_ a voice within her cautions. She closes her eyes; fights to relax her fists. Fights to breathe steadily. Fights for calm.

A movement to her left. The clunk of tired old armor. "We have orders to bring you in."

"Orders from whom?" she manages from between gritted teeth. A movement now to her right. The dead-enders flank her.

"Our leader," the first returns with reverence, "the grandson of Darth Vader."

* * *

 **NOTES:**

 **Dead-enders:** _Rey's Survival Guide_ has been a great reference for understanding more of Jakku. Dead-enders are not my creation, although I've taken my own liberties with them - they're Imperial soldiers who survived the Battle of Jakku and spend their days shuffling around Carbon Ridge, guarding a secret base that may or may not exist and waiting for... Rescue? The return of their Emperor? The washtable stories change with the telling, but check the book out of the library if you don't already have it, or just... Wookieepedia :)

 **Bardotta:** No wonder Finn thought the Bardottans were distrustful. At one stage the Jedi Order used to take Force-sensitive children from this planet to train as their own, until the people of the planet called it abduction and forced their return. Again, Wookieepedia. Man it's annoying that FFNET doesn't allow me to post links.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part VII**

 _The grandson of Darth Vader_. The words turn over and over in Rey's mind like a casing she might crack if only she can find its point of weakness.

Her knowledge of Darth Vader is sparse at best; limited to overblown tales of a monster in a mask who served the last Emperor and terrorised the galaxy during his reign. Tale shared by old Jakku drunks who may have technically been alive during Vader's time but had surely never seen an honest glimpse of him from their inconsequential backwater planet.

" _You're afraid you'll never be as strong as Darth Vader."_ She'd directed the accusation at another masked monster, having plucked the fear from Kylo Ren's own head. Though even then, she hadn't known what it meant.

" _Son of darkness. Heir apparent to Lord Vader."_ Snoke's words rise to Rey's mind like a ghostly echo. Heir apparent, he'd called Ben. In the midst of battle and torture, she'd thought of it as nothing more than brainwash. But was it?

The rattle of loose armour sends an echo through the tunnel that sets Rey's teeth on edge and brings her thoughts back to the here and now. It feels like they're slowly descending, and in the shifting iridescent light of a glowstick, she studies the soldier before her.

Rey hasn't encountered many stormtroopers in her lifetime, but there's a certain stride to this man's walk that she feels must be ingrained into all of them. A regimented swing to his arms that she's seen echoed by Finn at times - before he catches himself and tries for a more casual saunter.

Much of the wash table gossip relating to dead-enders focused on a secret military base buried in the Ridge that a contingent of stormtroopers had stayed to protect even after the Empire fell. Rey had always fancied the tale about them being the survivors of a Star Destroyer who had been sent out by their officers to secure the crash site and await rescue, only for a landslide to bury the ship. The simple - and far less romanticised - explanation for dead-enders was that they were just scavengers who'd lost their minds, gathered up remnants of Imperial armour and taken to the caves of Carbon Ridge to live out their final days with like-minded crazies.

But as Rey watches this old faded stormtrooper walk, direct his comrades at her rear, and generally display far less crazy than expected… it's apparent these men must have once been true servants of the Empire; that somehow, the wash table stories of a stranded army must have held some truth.

"Do you have a name?" The question flies out louder than Rey intended, causing fragments of her words to ricochet off the tunnel walls as if racing ahead of them. The butt of a blaster jabs against her back; a wordless demand for silence that she temporarily considers rebelling against before grudgingly holding her tongue.

But the unanswered question opens a new box of curiosities within her mind. If these people _really_ been here since the fall of the Empire, how have they survived? Is there actual truth to the rumours of a secret research base? Or were simply a bunch of abandoned soldiers left to wait for a rescue that would never come?

A twinge of sadness plucks at Rey's mind with that thought. An aching pull of familiarity. Tentatively, she gathers the Force to her and tries to glean some kind of reading as to who they are, and what they intend to do with her. A mild vibration fills her body as she channels the energy, pushing it towards the trooper in front of her as if she can somehow compel it to physically penetrate the brittle armour helmet, the skin, the skull… And then tap into the thoughts inside his head.

Her efforts fall flat. The Force skitters away from her as if seeking an escape. She doesn't know the first thing about probing someone's mind. It's like she's holding the end of an invisible antenna, but with no idea of how to direct it.

"We're here."

The group halt before a section of tunnel that looks no different from any other until the leader steps to the right hand wall and the wavering glowlight reveals the subtle outline of a door cut into the carbonite rock. Rey blinks at the revelation, and in that moment misses the mechanism the trooper uses to activate the door. It slides open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing a room that looks like the airlock chamber of an Imperial star destroyer. A description specific to her mind, given how often she's climbed through the wreckage of both the _Ravager_ and the _Inflictor_ in the past.

She hesitates as the stormtrooper steps back. "Where is _here_ , exactly?"

There it is, the blaster butting the base of her spine again. Stumbling over the threshold, Rey spins around with the intention of grabbing the damn weapon and shoving it up -

The door hisses closed. Leaving Rey in the chamber, and the stormtroopers on the other side.

 _Ksssssk._ It's a subtle sound - once again at her back. Whirling, Rey finds herself facing yet another opened door. And yet another stormtrooper striding through it, to stop before her.

"Let me guess," she begins before the white armour-clad figure can speak, "you're my new tour guide."

"This way," the modulated voice is deep and utterly deadpan as the trooper motions her to move ahead.

"Well, wherever we're going, I hope you're planning to feed me," shrugging away the black-gloved hand that reaches for her arm, she moves towards the end of the chamber, where a new corridor awaits behind a blast door.

* * *

Any doubt of Carbon Ridge holding a secret Imperial base within its sharp-peaked mountain range is blown aside as Rey travels deeper into what is clearly a man-made structure. With its sleek grey durasteel interior made up of straight lines, curved corners and a dim iridescent light that suggests power is running at half, Rey feels a sense of familiarity to the design as memories come to mind of countless hours spent wandering through Star Destroyer wreckage.

But while the long corridor holds many doors on either side, and each door is clearly related to Star Destroyer aesthetic, there's a difference to the layout that puts her more in mind of a military station than a starcruiser.

"How has this remained a secret for so long?" she muses aloud, "the entrance was a no-brainer to find."

The stormtrooper at her back holds his silence, though she's relieved that he chooses not to use his blaster for communication, at least.

"How many of you are there? I never saw more than a dozen or so dead-enders rattling around the Ridge when I used to venture up here. Are they just the guards? Are there many more inside? What is this place, anyway?"

Still refusing to engage? Rey shakes her head. This one has the patience of a saint. "You know you can't hold me here, right? I can escape from anything."

She stops suddenly, forcing the trooper to sidestep to avoid collision. Swinging around to face him, she steels herself and sucks in a centering breath. "If Ben Solo is here, you will take me to him."

For a long moment, she feels a presence staring out at her from behind the helmet's visor, but the brittle white armouring may as well be empty, for all the reaction its host makes to her request.

"Okay then," she swallows hard and tries again, "take me to Kylo Ren."

The helmet tilts to one side as if seeking to process her request. But the soldier makes no effort to comply. Rey purses her lips and gives it one last shot, "take me to the grandson of Darth Vader!"

The trooper's left hand twitches at his side while his right flexes upon his blaster. "Follow me."

Finally! Rey blinks, surprised at her success as the soldier strides ahead of her. But the feeling is short-lived when the modulated voice drifts back, "taking you to the grandson of Darth Vader is precisely what I have orders to do."

* * *

"Wait here."

Stopping at a door, the trooper activates its opening mechanism and motions for Rey to enter the adjoining room.

Glancing to the stark grey cell that awaits her, she hesitates. "You said you'd bring me to Vader's grandson."

"And I will," waving her in once more, the stormtrooper waits for her to comply.

Let's see if he really does have the patience of a saint, Rey thinks as she crosses her arms and stays obstinately rooted in the corridor.

"I don't see anyone else in there."

"You will," he says in a clipped manner, "once you enter."

So he is human, she chuckles inwardly as a note of exasperation bleeds through the stormtrooper's modulated voice. The fact that his hand is tightening on his blaster doesn't escape Rey's attention. Nor does the fact that she's stuck in a secret underground facility with a stormtrooper impervious to Force-persuasion and clearly running out of good will.

Perhaps she can't escape from anywhere, afterall.

"Fine," she says tersely, and seeing no better alternative, she steps into the cell.

The door shuts behind her with a pneumatic hiss. Not bothering to look over her shoulder, Rey steps towards the single cot bed with its grey Imperial-issue blanket neatly tucked around the thin mattress, and turns to sit upon it.

A movement from the doorway catches her eye, and she looks up in startelement as the stormtrooper - now in the closed cell with her - steps into the center of the room.

"Wh-" Leaping to her feet, Rey's right hand slides to the staff at her back; grateful the dead-enders never bothered with confiscating it. "Why are you still here? Am I being interrogated now?"

"Something like that," the stormtrooper replies, stepping closer as he lifts his hands to his helmet. Pulling it free of his head, he drops it to the floor as Rey's eyes widen in shock at his sudden revelation.

"Rey," closing the gap between them, Kylo stops just short of reaching to her, "what are you doing here? And do you have _any_ idea how hard it's going to be for me to get you out of this mess?"

* * *

 _ **Chapter Endnote:** Not sure if anyone is still reading this, so I won't apologise for the lack of Kylo in this chapter. I mean, technically he was present for half of it... :p I'm working on the next chapter already, though also bouncing around a couple of other fics, so if anyone would like to see another chapter update soon, I may have it ready over the next week. Hope someone out there is looking forward to seeing how the Kylo and Rey tension plays out face to face! (Okay, I just read back on that chapter note and realised it's one big barrel of fishing-for-feedback but... Meh, I won't apologise for that either. Feedback is nice sometimes. :/ )_


	8. Chapter 8

"I knew I'd find you."

The softness of Rey's words takes Kylo by surprise - though perhaps not as much as it does her if the pink spots that bloom across her cheeks are any kind of tell.

He works his jaw in silence as he strives to form a response. This confrontation has already played out inside his head from every potential angle, from the moment he discovered the girl had returned to Jakku. He fights her. She fights him... Over what, he can't quite figure. But surely there has to be a fight in there _somewhere_.

Though that's not to say his mind hasn't entertained other less-likely causes for her to track him down. Brief, explorative fantasies that stem from the ghost of her fingertips upon his skin when he stood within a sandstorm…

Swallowing hard, Kylo pushes _those_ thoughts aside.

"Why are you here? Did my mother send you? Who did you come here wi -"

"No one." Rey intercepts quickly, stepping forward to appease him. "I came here alone. No one knows why - I left my crew on Bardotta and then I jammed the Falcon's tracking -" she stops, no doubt realising she's revealed far too much to someone who's still technically her enemy.

"My crew know I'm here and if they don't hear from me, they know where to look," her eyes blaze with sudden fury, "so unless you want the Resistance swarming through this place, I suggest you let me go."

"Let you go?" Kylo laughs then. A short sharp sound that actually holds a trace of genuine amusement. "Rey… You're the one who came to me."

Her mouth snaps shut on her tirade. "Right. Of course. I did, didn't I?"

"So, why are you -"

"I can fix that." She waves obscurely towards his face before shrugging off her backpack.

He stares at the girl for a long minute, frustrated by her dogged attempts to avoid his question, and confused as to what exactly she's offering to fix. Ignoring his stare, she digs through her pack with a nervous gusto and when she finally pulls free a medpac amidst the furore of ration bars that tumble from the bag, he understands.

"Why would you let such an injury go unhealed?" Stepping closer, her hand snakes out to hover near the badly-healing wound above his left eye. "Are you _trying_ to collect scars?"

At least she has the decency to look guilty, he thinks, as her eyes dart to the saber strike that bisects the opposite side of his face.

"Rey, why are you here?" Catching her arm at the wrist, Kylo holds her firm so she can't avoid his question any longer, "surely you weren't sent for recon because you're a terrible spy..."

"I told you, I came alone."

"That's not what I asked." Pulling her closer, Kylo hisses through his teeth as his patience wears thin, " _why_ are you here?"

* * *

She's not used to this. Not used to speaking to Kylo Ren without a galaxy of stars between them. Not used to feeling tongue-tied and awkward; unsure if he remembers how she reached for him in the sandstorm or if he's compartmentalised it like she wishes she could. How do you even go about finding out the answer to that?

Simple solution. You don't.

"Fine." She shrugs. "You've got me. The Resistance sent me."

"The Resistance sent you."

"Uh-huh." She blinks away, grimacing at the deadpan disbelief in his voice. This was all a terrible idea -she realises that now. Ridiculous. Disentangling herself, Rey retrieves a bacta patch and sanitation swab from the medpac. "You're too tall. Take a seat."

Surprisingly, Kylo complies, sinking to the edge of the bunk as if bone-weariness has won out over maintaining any kind of stoic facade. And it has, she realises, watching the way his shoulders sag as a long breath escapes him.

He doesn't look menacing. He doesn't look like a leader of anything. He just looks… Lost. And it's jarring for Rey to realise she's once again thinking this way about _Kylo Ren_. Because lost and vulnerable and overwhelmed are all the things he's most certainly _not_.

What the hell am I doing? She wonders as she scoots closer and tentatively sweeps a tangle of hair from his brow to expose the wound. What the _hell_ am I doing? She frets as she cards her fingers through his dishevelled mop to hold back the locks before cautiously cleaning away old blood.

"Rey, why have you come to Jakku? Is it because of the last time the Force brought us togeth -"

"Stop," the word snaps from her mouth as sharp and frantic as her thoughts. "Please. Don't ask me right now. Just hold still."

Kylo presses his lips in a firm line but holds his tongue. Instead, opting to close his eyes in a flurry of dark lashes so that she's not sure if he's trying to block her out, or sink into the feeling of being cared for.

That last thought causes her to freeze in the midst of her ministrations. It's traitorous enough that she's here with the man who has, through the process of brute force and extermination, come to rule the galaxy. The fact that she's fussing over a stupid injury rather than taking the opportunity to grab a stim-shot from her medpac and ram it through his eye...

A smile twitches the corner of Kylo's mouth and for a moment she panics; wondering if he's tapped into her thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"I'm thinking if you're so concerned about this scratch, what will you think if you see the bite a ripper-raptor took out of my backside?" He cracks open an eye, "you should probably take a look at that one, too."

"Really?" Fingers fumble as she presses the bacta patch to his brow. A wave of red hot embarrassment floods her body like a rupturing aneurysm.

"No, I'm just kidding." This time when he smiles, it's a genuine thing that softens his face and presses dimples in his cheeks.

Rey stares, momentarily disarmed by the transformation.

"Hmph _._ " _Kylo Ren,_ she reminds herself. Ben Solo is long gone. A shell of someone else's memory. A ghost.

 _So if you believe that, why are you here?_

Tight-lipped, Rey spins away and shoves the medpac into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder.

But it's hard to field a question when it's presented by your own brain.

* * *

She's like a half-tamed wild thing, Kylo thinks. Never quite trusting enough to step in close, but always gazing as if she longs to.

He watches the quick bird-like way in which the girl packs herself ready to move on. One hand near her staff, ready to wield it in an instant. The stance of her body fierce and challenging, even as her eyes drag over him with a kind of hopeless hopefulness that makes him wonder if she's perpetually at the edge of waiting for him to magically transform into someone more than what he is.

Someone he may have once been.

Scorn rises to his throat. Ben Solo is dead. Hasn't he told her this already? The words are at the tip of Kylo's tongue to remind her again. But he holds them in his mouth. Perhaps there's an advantage to letting her think he'll transform into the gleaming beacon of light she hopes him to be.

"So the Resistance sent you. To bring me to them?" He holds her gaze as she nods in wordless silence.

"Fine, we'll go with that for now. Because my next guess was that you thought me lost in a sandstorm and figured on rescuing me." Rising from the bunk, he starts towards the door. "And you'd never betray your new rebel family by doing _that_ , would you?"

"Where are you going?" Rey tenses, ignoring the remark as her eyes flit to the door.

"I didn't come to this place by accident, Rey. And I don't need rescuing." Kylo waves a hand towards the bunk. "Make yourself comfortable. The troopers out there expect you'll remain in this cell until I've tortured every last morsel of truth from you."

He watches as her eyes narrow and her hand reaches for her staff. "So I'm going to find you something else to wear. And then I'm going to escort you back to your ship," the twist of a smile escapes him as the door slides open, "before you start hitting me with a stick."

* * *

Rey sits cross-legged on the bunk and breathes slowly through her nose. She's _trying_ not to feel foolish. She's _trying_ to box up the deep dark rage she can feel slowly unfurling through her body despite how dearly she wants to succumb to it. And she's trying to trouble-shoot this stupid mess she's gotten herself into…

Because she was idiotic enough to think she needed to save Leia's son, and she'll be a bigger idiot to believe he'll just let her leave here.

The soft hiss of the door sliding open causes her to tense; all semblance of calm - not that she managed to find any - evaporating as the stormtrooper enters. Rising slowly to her feet, Rey eyes the way the brittle armour hangs off the trooper's black body-glove that, in retrospect, is far too short for his limbs.

"I'm not sure how I didn't realise it was you under all that," she snorts, "when it was clearly made for a smaller man."

"You're absolutely right."

The modulated voice lifts in mock surprise and, as if her words are a prompt, Kylo removes the white combat helmet and begins unclipping the plastoid casing from the body-glove and dropping it carelessly to the floor. The man has no sense of modesty, Rey thinks as the moulded codpiece falls to the ground next, and she shifts her gaze quickly towards the opposite wall. That skin-tight suit holds _no_ secrets.

"Here."

A bundle of rolled-up cloth hits her in the chest. The smell of someone else's body wafts from the ragged black fabric that drops to her feet. Her nose crinkles as she jerks her head back, "What is this supposed to be?"

"An escape plan."

When she looks up, he's holding a black helmet in his outstretched hand. Battered and ancient and cruel in design.

Rey shakes her head. "There's no way I'm wearing that thing." She toes the clothing at her feet. "And no way I'm wearing these - if that's what you're angling towards."

"You have no choice."

"No."

"It's the only way."

"No."

"You've intruded into a place where you have no right to be!" Kylo steps forward then, half-undressed and still entirely shameless, "can't you see that I'm trying to help you?"

"I can see a lot of you right now," Rey retorts, "and none of it is helping me."

Undeterred, he holds his ground and glares with a ferocity that she can _feel_ until finally she shifts her gaze to meet his own; only to be caught by the churn of emotions that blaze across his face.

"Why _,_ Kylo?" His adopted name feels strange upon Rey's tongue. An odd look of surprise crosses his face as she uses it. "Why would you help me?"

The muscle beneath his eye breaks into a flurry of spasms. He's trying to hold it all in - the rage. The frustration. Whatever else he feels and yet keeps tightly locked away. It's disconcerting to know that she can read him better than those damn Jedi texts she's spent months trying to figure out.

"I need you." He says finally.

"What?"

"I need you to complete a task for me. _With_ me..." a pained expression crosses his face, "look, this isn't easy for me to explain - "

"Clearly," she snorts.

"My Knights have returned recently from the Unknown Region," he pauses as if expecting another interruption. Rey holds her tongue despite the urge to do just that. "They brought news of a new threat. To all of us."

"Uh-huh." She makes no effort to hide the scepticism. A threat to the First Order? Well, perhaps the enemy of her enemy could be a friend...

"This newcomer is an enemy to _all_ of us, Rey," he snaps, "and I didn't need to read that in your thoughts. I could see it on your face."

"So, what do you want from me?"

Kylo hesitates. Jaw working as if pre-chewing his words. "Do you know what a Holocron is?"

 _Holocron_. Closing her eyes, Rey turns the word over in her mind. A page from a Jedi text comes to mind. A sketch of a cube; its purpose meaningless to her.

"Of course I do." She says finally, meeting Kylo's doubtful stare.

"No," he shakes his head, "you don't. But I'll show you once we leave here."

Crossing her arms, Rey's eyes flicker to the savage-looking helmet in Kylo's hand. "And what happened to the last poor fool to wear that thing?"

"The wearer was one of my Knights," his grip tightens on the helmet as if he might crush it with his fingers, "who betrayed me. So I killed her." He glares as if holding her to blame for his actions.

Closing her mouth on a half-formed retort, Rey opts for silence. She can see where he's going with this escape plan. And she's not a fan.

Ignoring her reaction, or lack thereof, Kylo bends down to pick up the bundle of clothing and shoves them in her hands. "You're going to wear these rags because you and I are the only ones so far to know of Shira's death -"

"So, why did you kill her?" Rey interrupts; tone infuriatingly conversational.

Kylo stares. Face contorting with half a dozen potential reactions - three of which are probably violent - before finally grinding out, "she was going to kill you."

It seems forever that Rey gapes; not quite believing her ears, "is _that_ why she betrayed you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs, "she was hoping to kill me next. Look, it doesn't matter..."

"Fine." Snatching the helmet from his grasp, Rey throws it on the bunk before picking up a scrap of clothing from the floor. A gown of sorts. Slit to the hips for ease of movement. Satisfied by her compliance, Kylo turns away to sort his own bundle of clothing.

"Don't turn around," she warns, noting how he freezes for a moment as if realising the implications of why he should not.

"Uh-huh." It's a quick response. A beat too fast for his normal measured speech.

Rey bites her lip against a smile. Kylo Ren, rendered awkward and embarrassed. It intrigues her to think he does perhaps have human feelings buried somewhere beyond that stoic facade

"Well, I hope there's something I can wear under this," she murmurs softly, "otherwise you're going to see a whole lot more of me than you've bargained for..."

A sharp inhalation is his only measure of response this time. And a shift of tension so ferocious she can all but feel her blood thrum.

Satisfied, she shimmies out of her desert-worn garb and throws the dead Knight's gown over her head in a flurry of awkward movements; suddenly self-conscious that Kylo might, in fact, turn at any moment to catch her half-naked before him. But he's cautiously holding his own position with his back to her, and as he clips his belt around his floor-length robe, she adjusts the gown and begins sifting through the remaining mountain of black cloth at her feet.

Thank the stars, she mutters inwardly as she pulls thick black leggings from the pile and wriggles into them. Mid-calf boots in supple black leather follow. Then there's a battle-worn cape - just in case the rest of the gear isn't quite ominous enough.

Kylo is dressed and still now. Waiting for her to give the word that she's ready for him to turn around.

"It's safe to look," she mutters before throwing her attention into unwrapping her once-white armbands.

"Your um…" He crosses the cell, an apologetic smile briefly alighting his face as he points towards her chest. Rey looks down to see a good inch or so of breastband showing beneath the deep V of the gown.

"Kriff." Evidently, Darksiders favour a more revealing cleavage. "I suppose I'll have to…"

Biting her lip, Rey tries to tuck the breastband out of sight. No luck. Adjusting the front of the gown makes no difference either. She shifts her attention back to Kylo, whose gaze has become fixated on her efforts. Rolling her eyes, she makes a spinning motion with her fingers. "Do you mind…"

Slowly he draws his eyes up to meet her own, and she sucks in a steadying breath at the _hunger_ she reads in them. Her skin flushes warm and strange and not entirely unpleasant. Does he remember how she cupped his cheek in the sandstorm? Does he remember that she laid her fingers upon his lips…

Does she too have this half-starved look upon her face?

She closes her eyes. "Please turn around." There's an unsteadiness to her voice that she just can't get under control.

The sound of a boot scuff indicates he's complied, and she opens her eyes to find herself once again staring at Kylo Ren's back. And while the ragged edges of his cowl hides his form, she can still see every bit of tension in his stance.

"Are you actually going to finish getting dressed," he asks quietly, "or are you just going to stare?"

"Shut up." Heat flames Rey's cheeks as she fumbles to remove the stupid breastband and rearrange the gown. The plunging neckline is probably better suited for its former wearer, she thinks miserably as her small breasts disappear into obscurity. Its former wearer probably didn't grow up on the knife's edge of malnourishment, she tells herself defensively.

"I'm ready." Taking a moment to stuff her own clothing into her bag, she rises to find Kylo eyeing her sceptically. "Here we go. What am I doing wrong?"

"One last thing," he mutters, crouching down to pick up one final item from the ground. It's a wide belt, not unlike the one he wears.

Stepping closer, Kylo slips his hands behind her back to fix the belt around her torso. Rey startles at his sudden proximity as she finds her nose almost colliding with the wall that is his chest. His breath skims the crown of her head as he moves closer still, peering over her shoulder so that he can clip the belt together.

For a moment, Rey barely dares to breathe as his hands rest against the small of her back; palms radiating heat through the light fabric weave. Her own limbs hang loose at her sides like spare components she suddenly can't find a place for, and she shifts her head, angling up towards the hollow of his throat so she can take a breath without smothering herself in the cowl that drapes his shoulders.

It's a mistake. The warm soft scent of his skin causes her stomach to flush like a bundle of shifting nerves. She watches his pulse flutter at his throat as he tightens his grip possessively, pulling her closer still. His mouth moves against the top of her head as he murmurs, " _now_ you look like my counterpart."

And then he's releasing her. Stepping neatly back into his own space. Leaving her teetering.

"Well, that's really disconcerting," she mutters, aiming for a derogatory tone like she hadn't just been on the verge of leaning in and doing something stupidly dumb she'd no doubt feel shame and regret for, forever.

Kylo jerks his head to one side, but not before she catches something shift in the set of his jaw. A clenching down of whatever stark emotion had just been emblazoned across his face if she'd just looked up in time to catch it.

There's something slightly incredible about watching the way he packs his emotions away. Folding them neatly into secret compartments within himself so that the only thing that remains is the neatly pressed remnants of cool civility.

Sighing, Rey hitches her bag onto her shoulder and grabs up her staff. Then stops in her tracks when she swings around to face his blank frowning disapproval.

"For crying out loud, now wha-"

"You can't take your bag and staff. You'll have to leave them with me." Stepping towards the bunk, Kylo scoops up the damned helmet she'd hoped so hard he'd forget. "And you have to wear this."

"Leave them with you?" She repeats. "Do you actually perceive some kind of future where you'll be in a position to give them back to me? Because I am _not_ leaving my staff here."

"We can't be doing this right now, Rey -"

"Yeah, we can."

"No, we _can't_." Kylo thrusts the helmet towards her and winces as if the whole conversation is on par with a tooth extraction. "The guard is about to change and _now_ is my best chance to walk you out of here before something else goes wrong. Now put on the mask, and put down your stuff. How do you expect anyone to believe you're a Knight of Ren if you're carrying…"

He trails off as Rey pulls the cape from her shoulders and uses it to wrap around her bag. Then tucking the parcel in the crook of her arm, she slings her staff across her back and meets his eye with a ferocity to match his own before snatching the helmet from his hand and jamming it on her head.

"If anyone asks, find something to tell them." Through the modulator, her voice is harsh and alien. "Or maybe try reminding them of who you are."

"Perhaps I should remind _you_ of who I am." Kylo counters darkly. But he slips his own recently repaired helmet over his head and turns to the door. "Don't say a word. You sound nothing like Shira."

Then the door is opening with a pneumatic whoosh. And Kylo Ren is striding into the corridor with the cool arrogance of Supreme Leader firmly in place. Leaving _Shira Ren_ to follow suit.

* * *

 _ **Notes:**_

 _ **Shira** \- I decided this would be a fitting name for a female KOR as it's associated with one of my favourite darksiders, Lumiya (born Shira Brie), a badass Lady of the Sith from Legends continuity. If there were to be a female KOR in TROS, I'd love to see influences of Lumiya/Shira in her characterisation._


	9. Chapter 9

**Conversations**  
 **\- Part IX -**

.

With black robes swirling at his ankles, Kylo sweeps down the corridor with an air of authority as Rey all but breaks into a trot to keep up.

"Can you slow down?" She mutters, catching up to his side for a moment before dropping behind to make way for an oncoming pair of stormtroopers.

"Hold your tongue," the modulated voice commands quietly once they turn into a new corridor. "We're nearly -"

"Sir."

The voice at her back causes Rey to jump in surprise. In the same instant Kylo swings around, fists clenching at his sides as a stormtrooper turns into the corridor. "What is it?"

"Our scouts have located a Corellian freighter on the northern side of the Ridge" The trooper wears an orange pauldron on his shoulder, marking him as someone of rank. Though Rey has no idea of what - only that he defers tp Kylo nonetheless.

"Is there anyone on board?" The modulator masks the tension in Kylo's voice, but Rey can feel it roll off him nonetheless.

"We're not sure, Sir. A salvage crew from Niima Outpost have also found the ship."

Rey sucks in a sharp breath, her body flinching at the news. Kylo steps forward and slightly to one side as if to block her from the attention of the stormtrooper as he replies, "get rid of them. I need that ship."

"Sir?"

"Far be it for me to have to explain it to you, but I will anyway. I The hyperdrive on my TIE is damaged. I need to get off this planet. To do that, I _need_ that freighter, TK-317." With every word dropping like a lead weight, the air of menace in the corridor thickens as Kylo punctuates each sentence by stepping closer to the trooper.

There is a pause, ever so slightly, where Rey senses the old trooper's doubt. And then it's gone. "Very well, Sir."

Kylo gives the soldier a nod and turns on his heel, sweeping Rey alongside him as they continue down the corridor.

"I rigged the _Falcon_ with a few little surprises in case anyone comes along with sticky hands, but if it's Unkar's men, they'll bypass it soon enough." Rey winces at how eery and detached her voice sounds within the helmet. "Will your soldiers be able to stop them?"

"Of course not," Kylo snorts, "they're old. I'm surprised they can move faster than a shuffle. The best they'll do for us is to create a distraction while _we_ take back the Falcon."

"We?" Rey stops in her tracks and waits for Kylo to grudgingly stop and face her. "You're actually leaving with me? On the _Falcon_?

She can't keep the disbelief from her voice, even with the damn mask. Nor can he hide his derision - not that he'd try - as he replies.

"As I said earlier. I need your help. I've got what I came here for, now it's time for me to leave. Since the _real_ Shira caused me to have to destroy my TIE, that piece of space junk you call a ship is my only exit out of here."

"Okay." Rey pauses, mentally filing his speel about the TIE away for later. "Great. Well, I hope you have a plan to get us aboard the _Falcon_."

Kylo mutters something indistinguishable and moves on. Rey swallows hard before stepping in beside him. For a moment there, she could have sworn he'd said: "I plan on winging it."

For a moment there, he sounded just like his father.

* * *

"Recognise anyone?"

Rey takes the slender black pair of macrobinoculars Kylo offers her and raises them to her eyes; grimacing as they thunk awkwardly against the visor of her borrowed helmet. Feeling sheepish, she hones in on the _Falcon_. The scene relayed through the magnified lens holds no surprises. "Unkar Plutt's thugs."

Recognisable by the bindings that wrap their faces, four of Unkar's gang circle the ship with an air of wariness she can read even from across the canyon. A slight pan to the left and Rey sees why. "Seems one got too close to my security system."

The body is little more than a mound of charred, smoking rags. Nonplussed, the three remaining men step over it and she watches as one begins gesturing towards the underbelly of the ship. "I think they're figuring a way to bypass it."

"My troopers will reach them first."

"Just how have these cast-offs become _your_ troopers?" It's a question she only half-expects him to answer. Even still, his silence is disappointing.

Lowering the bi-nocs, Rey shifts her attention to the man at her side. With his helmet on, she can't read his face. And though she tries to reach out through the Force to gauge something of what's going on inside his head, he hides behind a wall of mental armouring she lacks the skill to penetrate.

"Fine." She shrugs. "We'll talk about it on the _Falcon_ then."

Slinging the bi-nocs over her head, Rey slides back from the cliff edge and turns away. Moments later she hears a scattering of gravel as Kylo moves to follow. They continue their path, single file, towards the ship. Crouched low least their moving forms show against the skyline.

* * *

"Why did you come for me?"

Ahead of him, the girl's back stiffens at his question. Her step falters, and it _could_ be that the length of Shira's gown has caught her foot, but he knows it's his question that's thrown her. He closes the distance between them, hand out ready to steady her. But she catches herself and presses on; picking her way across the rocks as if the gown and the question are barely an encumbrance. "Why do you call these troopers your men?"

He answers with a sharp laugh; the sound coarse and strange and hollow through the modulator. It's a clever counter-question, he'll give her that. "I'll tell you aboard the rust bucket, remember?"

"Right," she says cynically, "as will I."

The girl's pace quickens as she hitches up the heavy black skirt. Shira wasn't the most practical of warriors when it came to dressing, Kylo reflects. Always preferring attire better suited for moving through polished corridors and weapons designed for slipping neatly between the bones of an enemy's ribcage. She only carried her double-bladed saber for the sake of ceremony, and would have done away with the helmet too - but that it served the purpose of covering her disfigurements.

Enemies were so much easier for the Knight to get close enough to plunge a blade into if they thought someone beautiful resided behind the mask.

"There's an old sand-borer tunnel up ahead," Rey calls over her shoulder, interrupting his thoughts, "looks like it'll provide a more direct route to the _Falcon_."

Without waiting for a reply, the girl veers to her left and makes her way towards a dark opening in the ground.

"How can you be sure of where it'll lead?" Kylo stops at her side as she crouches at the mouth of the tunnel and looks for the best way to drop in.

Standing, she points to a jumble of rocks that look no different to him than any other jumble of rocks throughout the Ridge. "Traps."

"Traps." He repeats, still not understanding where she's going with this.

"Yes!" There's a note of excitement to the girl's voice as she elaborates. "The sand-borers live mainly in the Sinking Fields but they've been known to tunnel through the Ridge; following beneath game trails and breaking to the surface every so often to catch their prey. It's really quite fascinating."

"Fascinating." The flora and fauna of a near-barren sand planet aren't nearly as fascinating for Kylo as it is for Rey, and he shrugs as he moves to pass her, "so by game trails you mean…"

"Thissermounts. And their riders, sometimes," she adds after a pause. "Anchorites trek through here every so often. I guess they trade with the dead-enders - your new stormtrooper friends, that is. They're all game so far as sand-borers are concerned."

Something else in the distance catches her eye. She raises the bi-nocs to her visor and studies a flurry of movement he can just make out at a squint. "But I think it's the ripper-raptors that attracted them to this particular area. I'd say this is their nesting ground."

"Nesting ground." Kylo swings to face her. "For ripper-raptors."

"Uh-huh." Thrusting the macrobinoculars into Kylo's hands, she turns towards the tunnel mouth. "They're normally just carrion eaters, but with fledgelings to feed and little to feed upon… Well, now you know where I may have ended up, had you not sent your men to…"

"Save you?" he offers.

"Hmm." She hesitates, deliberating on whether now is a good time to say thanks, he imagines. "I was going to go with 'capture me', but anyway…" Extracting herself from further conversation, she swings herself down into the opening; fearless of what might be waiting within the tunnel's darkness.

"Well? Would you rather go under or through them?

The words echo up to him as he watches through the bi-nocs as the distant flurry magnifies into clusters of small leather-winged reptiles; their movements fast and fierce as they fight amidst themselves. Larger ones perch nearby, their watchful eyes on their young, and the canyon below.

"I have a bad feeling..." the words trail away with a huff as he tucks the macrobinoculars into an inner pocket of his cloak. Then he drops into the tunnel and allows the _Jedi_ to lead the way.

* * *

Rey feels as if she's holding her breath as she walks ahead of Kylo Ren, her pace steady and measured even as her heart races ahead of her.

For a while, it seemed the tunnel veered away from the direction they needed to be heading in, and she felt the weight of his gaze at her back as he silently questioned her; daring her to admit they need to turn back. Now she senses it twist towards the east once more. As if the _Falcon_ is a homing beacon.

"We'll come to an opening soon," she mutters into the gloom, "where the sand-borer broke through into the nesting ground." She's not 100% that this is true, but she's at least 70% sure that it could be.

Kylo holds his tongue. His stride even and purposeful as he remains a step behind. His eyes upon her back, unnerving, as she senses that silent stare.

She wonders if this plan will get them killed. And then she wonders, which plan exactly? The one she's currently executing right now - to run an underground gauntlet in the hope of reaching the _Millennium Falcon_ in one piece? Or the plan that will come next? The one that involves bringing the Supreme Leader of the First Order aboard the _Falcon_ and taking him back to…

No. That's not a train of thought that can be followed right now. If there's one thing she can establish on the spot, it's that planning is clearly not one of her strong points.

"Rey!"

A hand upon her arm swings her sharply around so that she's face to face with Kylo's broad chest. She angles her head upwards, the movement awkward beneath the ridiculous helmet. "What?"

"I said, 'there's movement up ahead', didn't you hear me?"

"Movement?" His words confound her. Even with the benefit of the helmet's night vision, it's almost impossible to see anything down here.

"Switch to thermal sensors." Kylo touches a hand to the side of Rey's helmet. In an instant, his body is lit a fierce blur of orange as her visor display changes from scotopic to thermal-vision.

"Handy." She turns away, scanning the direction they came from before turning back to the one in which they're heading. More orange blurs appear upon her visor's display. Half a dozen shifting forms that take on crude yet familiar shapes. "Ripper-raptors. Of course."

If it were a recent sand-borer tunnel, the creatures probably wouldn't dare to venture into it. Instead, it seems abandoned long enough that the creatures have made it into an extension of their nesting ground. "Well, I have some payback to deal to these creatures, so…" She readies her staff in her hands as she steps forward, "that'll be fun."

"Indeed it will." Kylo steps past, his strides long as the red saber ignites in his hand; its unstable blade crackling with volatile energy and searing the ground as he trails it behind him. "Though to be honest," he adds dryly, "the pursuit of revenge is not the way of the Jedi."

"Oi!" Rey's protest echoes ahead of her. She bites her lip, but it's too late to retract the sound now. The raptors send up a volley of their own sounds as they realise their territory has been breached; squawks and shrieks that set Rey's nerves on edge as an explosion of orange movement flurries across her thermal display.

"Kylo…" She's not afraid of these creatures. Absolutely not. Though the wounds their claws left upon her back and scalp seem to flare with the memory of pain as she steps forward to face them. The long skirt is cumbersome; tangling against her legs and slowing her with its clumsy weight. She longs to tear it at the knee or tie it off at least, but there's no time. An image of herself tripping and falling beneath the horde suddenly comes to mind, and she falters.

"I've got this." Raising his lightsaber in an arcing swing, Kylo slices through the first ripper to reach them. The creature drops to the ground, it's body bisected and neatly cauterised as falls on either side of him.

In the distance, the surge of orange blurs Rey's vision as the action provokes the rest of the beasts into a frenzy. Terror squeezes a cold fist within her gut as she feels the ghost of their wings beating down upon her yet again. Marshalling herself, she steps over the dead one and veers to the left to avoid Kylo's blade as she slams her staff into the next ripper. Satisfied at the crack of a breaking neck, she feels elation start to sing in her veins as she turns towards the next. This time thrusting out her hand and propelling the creature up into the tunnel roof before slamming it sidelong into another.

Beside her, Kylo drives his saber through rippers with his right hand, while using the Force to squeeze the life out of those that haven't yet closed in on his blade with the left. The tunnel reverberates with furious primaeval screams as the creatures strike out with their own weapons - curved talons and double-rowed teeth. Their cries serve as a signal boost, so that on and on they seem to come; throwing themselves upon saber and staff with a vehemence that seems driven more by hatred than hunger

In a brief moment of respite, Rey looks back to see the swath of bodies behind them; the image a sea of orange in her thermo-visioned sight. The carnage sickens her and she stumbles with the realisation that half of the slaughter was doled out by her; knees all but giving out beneath her at horror for what she's done.

"Now is not the time for a rest, _scavenger_." Kylo's gloved hand clasps her, pulling her back to her feet. Steadying her.

"My name's _Rey_." A fresh charge of anger surges through her bloodstream, propelling her into action once more as a new wave of ripper-raptors pour into the tunnel.

"That's my girl," she half-think she hears before she charges forward into the fray once more.

* * *

"Rose, what do you mean Rey _abandoned_ you and Finn upon Bardotta?"

General Leia Organa-Solo closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. The young Jedi's behaviour has always erred on the side of impulsive, though it's not entirely difficult to understand. After a lifetime of looking out for and answering to no one but herself, Leia's only surprised the girl didn't drop her comrades off at a habitable planet months ago.

"Well, General, she left us here with no explanation as to why, no idea of when she's coming back, and no means to get off this godsforsaken - "

"Bardotta is a lovely planet once you get used to it." Leia interrupts. "Have you seen their art?"

"I don't want to visit the -

Leia can only imagine the effort it's taken Rose to cut off her tirade and reign herself in. "Look, General, we think she's been searching for Kylo Ren. We think, maybe, she's turned…"

"No." Finn cuts in now, and there's a sudden crackle of static as the comlink is exchanged from one person to the next. "General, I don't believe Rey has betrayed us. But I do believe that she… that somehow she thinks Ren can be…"

"Turned?" Leia finishes softly.

"Yeah. No. I dunno. Maybe."

"Finn, Rose, thank you for informing me of your concerns." Exhausted suddenly, Leia sinks against the backrest of her chair and waves away a few sidelong looks of worry from those around her. "I'll arrange for you to be picked up. Meanwhile, I suggest visiting a gallery."

Reflecting upon what she's learnt, Leia presses whitened knuckles to her lips. So many times, she's tried to reach out to Ben through the Force. So many times she's blamed herself for being too weak, or despaired at him for being too strong; for walling himself off from anyone who might undo the damage wrought by Snoke.

If Ben still exists within the creature now known as Kylo Ren… If her son has formed a bond with Rey… If she can turn him back to the light…

Whether or not she should dare to hope is uncertain. But if Leia knows one thing for sure, it's that if there's anyone left she can trust to bring Ben back, it's the young Jedi.

* * *

The sound of blaster fire ricochets down the tunnel, halting Rey and Kylo in their fight against the rippers as the beasts turn towards their new threat. Rey hears Kylo suck in a sharp breath as she looks beyond them, expecting to see the orange forms of the newcomers relaying across her visor. Instead, she sees only the bulky blur of rippers as those that don't fall beneath the gunfire now charge towards it.

"Stormtroopers." Kylo's relief is so strong, Rey can feel it as if it's her own. Relief that back up has come for them - without need of an order. It's a strange thing to him, she senses, that someone might offer their services freely rather than wait for it to be demanded of them.

"How can you be sure?" She counters, "my sensors aren't picking up anyone."

"Their suits are thermo-regulated, he grunts, "they can't be detected wi-"

"Ben?" The spurned name leaves her lips before she can stop it, and she braces herself in preparation of a verbal tirade. But he doesn't care for semantics right now. Instead, he's keeling sideways, right hand clasped to his side. "You're injured!"

"Just a scratch."

Even though the modulator, she can tell he's gritting his teeth.

"Uh-huh." Bracing herself beneath Kylo's weight, Rey pulls his left arm over her shoulders and wraps her right around his waist so that her hand folds over his own, adding pressure to the wound.

"Rippers have a mildly paralyzing toxin in their talons," she manages, staggering as his legs start to give out beneath him; every ounce of her energy now put into stopping them both from slumping to the floor.

"Doesn't sound so terrible." The words slur as Kylo fights to right himself, forcing one leg to take his weight before pushing up again.

"Well, some people have been known to slip into a coma and die if enough of the toxin gets into their bloodstream." She can feel warm fluid seep between her fingers, making her grip against Kylo's own hand slide, and she swallows hard; wishing they were further than just halfway along this damned tunnel.

Kylo says something in reply, but she can't understand his words. Panic surges through her stomach. Damned if she's going to come this far just to lose him now.

Damned if she can actually haul him much further.

Feeling claustrophobic beneath the heavy, archaic helmet, Rey reaches up to unlatch it. The relief of pulling it from her head lasts only a moment before the smell of cauterized flesh from the rippers and the sharp iron smell of blood from Kylo's wound assaults her, causing her to tuck her nose into the crook of her left elbow to drag in a steadying breath.

Kylo's legs buckle beneath him once more as he falls sluggishly against her. Rey staggers at the impact before baring her teeth in a snarl. "Come on, Ben. Get up!"

The commotion of blaster fire down the tunnel seems to have stopped. She glances around, biting her lip as she tries to decide the best course of action before daring to call out, "I need help over here!"

Once the echo of her words fade, all that returns is silence.

"Fine," she mutters, turning her attention back to Kylo. Lowering him to the compacted earthen floor, she looks for the mechanism that unlocks his helmet and carefully removes it, choking back a small gasp at the way in which his eyes are fixed and open - yet thankfully still vibrant and _alive_.

"Come on." Hooking him under the armpits, Rey grits her teeth against his weight as she strains to drag him along the ground. It's no use. She may as well try to move a mountain. Shuffling so that his head rests on her lap, she touches a hand to his cheek, turning his face gently towards her. "Stay with me, Ben."

For once in her life, she wants him to reject the name. She wants his fury at that three-lettered word to keep him in the fight. And then she remembers the way in which he beat against his wound as they fought on Starkiller Base. And more words come to her mind. Words aimed to cause him pain. Because if there's one thing she remembers well of Kylo Ren, it's that pain makes him fight harder.

"Your mum told me to bring your home. She told me if you renounce your position within the First Order, they'll let you serve under Finn's command. You know Finn - the stormtrooper who escaped? He's come a long way since infantryman and janitor. How do you feel about deferring to him?"

It's all a bunch of lies. Leia has no idea about Rey's self-appointed rescue mission. And Rey has no idea if the Resistance would ever agree to let Kylo do anything except perhaps serve seventeen consecutive life sentences.

"Leia asked Han to bring you home too. Course, he was pretty sure you'd kill him first - and he was right. But he was willing to make that sacrifice. Will to…" Something in her voice gives out and she pauses, swallowing hard and blinking harder. With a quick glance to Kylo, she sees he's managed to roll his eyes towards her, and the fire in his gaze almost makes her flinch. "So maybe that'll be my fate too by the time this mildly inconvenient leg of our journey is over."

"And, do you remember Poe? The guy you tortured? Well, he asked me out." Those words have hit their target if the flare of rage in Kylo's gaze is anything to go by. "I think I might say yes, what do you think?"

Kylo's eyes seem to bulge as if he's fighting to break free of the paralysis with every last bit of his being. A flutter of spasms twitches at the skin beneath his left eye. His efforts give her hope, and she racks her brain for something else.

The scuff of a footstep upon gravel startles her and in an instant, the tunnel is lit with a yellow flare as a glowstick is tossed towards her. The relief lasts for as long as it takes to realise she's discarded Shira's helmet, and too late, she reaches out to snatch it up.

"Hey!" The first approaching stormtrooper trains his blaster upon her. "You're the rebel we captured!"

"Where do you think you're going?" A second trooper chimes. "You don't have authorisation to -"

"Is the _Falcon_ secure?" Rey demands with as much air of authority as she can muster.

The stormtroopers exchange glances, neither choosing to reply. Rey holds her breath as she stares down their barrels. She wonders if she can use the Force to freeze their blaster fire in the air if either decides to shoot. With Kylo half-draped across her lap like a lodestone, she doesn't want to have to find out.

"Tell me," she begins with a wave of her hand, "is that Corellian freighter secure?"

"We have secured the freighter as per our instruction." The first stormtrooper replies after a beat.

"Excellent. Now you will assist me in carrying the Supreme Leader to the ship." It's almost more energy than she can muster right now, to use Force-coercion against these men, and she's not even sure if _Supreme Leader_ is the title they defer to him by. Still, she has to give it a shot. "And then you will let us leave aboard it."

"Please allow us to carry the Supreme Leader," the first trooper steps forward and moves to take Kylo's upper body.

"We hope you enjoy your journey." Says the second, moving to take his feet.

"Wonderful." Rey sighs, rising to follow. Her worried gaze fixed on the wound at Kylo's side. Because it's easier than meeting that paralysed, unblinking stare.

As they draw closer to a tunnel opening where the sunlight pools, the sounds of a new commotion carries in. A rush of voices carries overtop of each other, no one distinguishable from another, until a blaster shot rings out, silencing them all. A chill runs down Rey's spine with the dread of what waits for her on the surface. Too many people to pull a mind trick upon, she suspects.

Pulling Shira's helmet back over her head, she straightens herself and prepares some kind of bluff.

* * *

"If a single one of you takes one step further, I'll blast your asses."

Finn stares down at the small group that stands at the bottom of the tunnel mouth. It takes every last effort not to let out a whoop of victory to recognise the body being carried between two stormtroopers as none other than the man who killed Han Solo. The man who is none other than Kylo Ren. And behind him walks a masked woman. One of his weird acolytes, no doubt.

"We'll take that one prisoner," he says to Snap, making sure she can hear. "The dead one, you can throw over a cliff." From the corner of his eye, he sees the woman flinch. "Actually on second thoughts, best we bring him with us. As proof."

 _"Finn!"_

The modulated cry catches him as he moves to step away. Stunned, he turns back towards the woman. "How do you know my name?"

The woman seems hesitant, but slowly she reaches up to remove her helmet. Every last bit of air in the ex-stormtrooper's lungs seems to punch out of him as he recognises the desperate face that stares up at him.

"Finn," Rey begins, "you're not supposed to be here."

"Huh." He drags in a breath. "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't want us knowing you've betrayed the Resistance for _him_."

Finn can't believe this. Can't believe Rey would do this to them. Dragging a hand through his hair, he turns away for a moment to compose himself before spinning back around again. "Why, Rey? Why!"

A hand falls upon his shoulder. Snap. He shakes it off, ignoring the older pilot's attempt to placate him. "Leia and Han - they trusted you! We all trusted you! And yet here you are -"

"Wearing a disguise, Finn. Just a disguise." The look Rey gives him is incomprehensible; as if she's trying to communicate something that he just can't understand. "Give me a minute." She says at last, and with a final glance towards the prone figure of Kylo Ren, Rey scrambles to climb out of the tunnel opening, cursing beneath her breath as the long gown catches under her feet.

Finn curls his hands into his palms, resisting the innate urge to reach for her hand. To help her. But one look of desperation from her as her fingers clutch at crumbling rock and her face pinches in pain, and he's reaching down to grab her before he can stop himself.

"I can explain this." She mutters, turning to wave forward a stormtrooper.

"You'd better," Finn growls, disgust rising like bile in his mouth as she begins directing soldiers to retrieve the body of _Supreme Leader_ Kylo Ren.

* * *

 _ **Chapter Endnote:** Who else is reeling from The Rise of Skywalker? I took a break from writing Conversations to start churning out a TROS fix-it fic, but the call to finish this chapter compelled me back. Since it's been so long since I updated this fic and my brain needed to tumble into a rabbit hole (or sand borer hole) to escape my post-TROS feelings, I thought it would be fair to allow this chapter to spin into something lengthy with a wee twist or two near the end._

 _Eh, I say twist or two, because I wasn't planning to render Kylo paralyzed by ripper raptor venom, and then I further surprised myself by having Finn rock up at the end there after Snap was sent to pick him and Rose up from Bardotta. Course, he wouldn't want to desert his friend if he senses she's in trouble, right?! Now... How is she going to convince him she's not a traitor? Man. What a mess. Fortunately, I have a plan! (Pfft, that assurance means NOTHING when you consider the fact that even my own brain throws things into my fics that I'm not expecting. I must be channelling my inner-JJ: make it up on the fly and hope it works out for someone in the end?)_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Note:** I wrote most of this chapter in one late-night sitting, and while I've since done a couple rounds of editing, part of me still cautions to hold off on posting - to sit on it for a week and come back to it with fresh eyes. It's probably good advice - thanks brain! But, I never listen to my brain. So... This is what we end up with._

 _Thanks for the follows and feedback thus far! Please feel free to leave any comments on what you do/don't like/whatever - it gives me something to look forward to when I open my email (cause otherwise it's all just overdue library book notifications and Groupon ads.)_

 _If you're interested in a TROS fix-it fic, please check out my other stories for Not Fade Away. Also, if you're on Tumblr, come say hi to me at acowlorsomething :)_

* * *

 **CONVERSATIONS**

 **\- CHAPTER 10 -**

.

"This had better be good," Finn utters as they watch the stormtroopers lift Kylo Ren's body from the pit.

Rey offers a weak smile, her mind floundering as she searches for an explanation. "Have you heard of a Holocron?"

Finn shrugs. "Is it like the holonet?"

"Not at all." She's not sure where she's going with this, given Kylo never elaborated beyond asking her this same question. And her own memory is of a stiff old page within a dusty book that she didn't particularly stop to read.

So Rey takes a pot-shot at the first thing that comes to mind. Because it _feels_ right. "They're ancient devices used by the Jedi. And the Sith. Kylo Ren has one."

"Uh-huh." Finn narrows his eyes, thunder rolling over his face as her words prove to be thus-far less than reassuring.

Biting her lip, Rey closes her eyes, wishing she'd had a chance to query Kylo on any of this beforehand. Desperate with the pressure of knowing Finn is _waiting_ for her to elaborate, she reaches into the Force as if somehow she might unlock the details of that page...

The Force reaches back.

She feels it like a soft buzz reverberating through her body. Like that of the Bond opening. She feels rather than sees Kylo's presence. Inside her mind. As if he's projected a part of his conscience into her own. Understanding of the Holocron comes to her now in crystal clarity. As with everything else he was meaning to tell her of his plan.

"These Holocrons, they hold information." Her words come with confidence now. "The one Kylo has holds information vital to defeating a mutual enemy. A threat that's amassed an army deep within the Unknown Regions. He needs my help to use the device."

The words escape her in a rush and she snaps open her eyes. Hope for Finn's understanding fades when she sees his scowl has only darkened.

"So, you're on first-name basis with him now?"

" _That's_ what you choose to focus on?" Incredulous, Rey feels her own anger rise. White-hot and seething. Or maybe the chagrin comes from Kylo Ren. Suddenly his presence within her head isn't so welcome.

Finn snorts. "So, who exactly is this threat? And why would Ren care to defeat someone who could become his ally?"

"Think about it, Finn." Rey pauses to allow him a moment to do just that. "An invasion from the Unknown Regions is as much a threat to the First Order as it is the Resistance. From that perspective, _we're_ the allies."

"Right. Until we defeat this _alleged_ threat - and then Ren is back to trying to eliminate us again." Finn steps closer, taking hold of Rey's shoulders with firm hands. "Rey, you weren't actually thinking of joining him, right?"

Rey bites her lip, looking from Finn to Kylo, who is now being carried to the _Falcon_ by the old stormtroopers she mind-tricked earlier. "I'm not just contemplating it, Finn. I'm doing it. I'm going to find out what this threat is. This…" the name comes to her then, offered by sharp tendrils of Kylo's own conscience. " _Palpatine._ "

"No, Rey. You're not. Kylo Ren is _dead_. There's nothing left to consider except returning to the base with us." Finn shifts himself so as to block her path to the old freighter. "We'll take the _Falcon_ together, and bring his body. Broadcast it over the Holonet so the whole galaxy can know and celebrate our victory! It'll rally more to our side so that we can strike the First Order while they're still trying to sort out their sh -"

"No!" Sickened by her friend's vehemence, Rey sidesteps him. "I'm going to find the Holocron, figure out who this Palpatine is and -"

"Stop!"

Rey hisses between her teeth as Finn grabs her elbow, swinging her back around. His fingers press into her skin, his own teeth clenched as the threat of angry tears turn his eyes glossy. "I'm not letting you go, Rey. Don't you understand? There's no way I'm gonna let you leave -"

" _Let_ me?" Rey thunders, yanking herself away. "You think I need to ask permission?"

"Damn straight you need permission! You're a part of the _Resistance_ , Rey. You can't just galavant across the galaxy by yourself on a whim. You're not a lone scavenger anymore - you need to stop acting like one."

Rey stares, not recognising the man who stands before her. "That's not fair."

Finn stops, breathing hard as if working to compose himself. "War isn't fair, Rey. The thing is, we have a job to do. As it is, General Organa had to send Snap to pick us up after you stranded us on Bardotta -"

"I told you I'd come back!"

"When exactly were you planning to do that? Before or after joining _Kylo Ren_ on a mission to… to…" scrubbing a hand over his face, Finn groans into his palm. "This - this is ridiculous. I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

There is a part of Rey that feels sympathy for her friend. A part of her that can see from his perspective, how this looks. But there's a greater part that has Kylo's conscience threaded like a ribbon through her own. And it feels no empathy for the ex-stormtrooper. Only rage. And envy.

That last one surprises her.

"Finn," forcing herself to ignore her own inner-war, Rey steadies her voice, "has Leia ordered my return?"

"Well I'm sure she would," Finn deflects, "if she knew of your plan to desert the Resistance in favour of honeymooning across the galaxy with the corpse of the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Rey, you're not thinking straight. This is madness -"

Rey laughs before she can stop herself. "I promise, however it may look right now, I'm not turning to the dark side. Nor am I deserting the Resistance or... _honeymooning_ with anyone. But I have to do this, Finn. And like it or not, you can't stop me."

To her surprise, Finn holds his tongue and simply stares. Rey sighs, wishing she could reach out and hug him as she once would have, without care or thought of propriety or the fact that she can feel Kylo's rage in her mind; separate from her own feelings, yet tangled amidst them so that she's not sure where hers start and his end.

Instead, she settles for clapping a hand to her friend's shoulder, squeezing it amicably before dropping back. "Give Leia a message for me?"

"Uh-huh." It's a grudging response uttered between clenched teeth. She can tell that Finn is still wrestling with the idea of letting her go, and probably considering ways in which to try and force her to stay.

"Tell her, I'm bringing him back."

Utter confusion furrows his brow then, unlocking his mouth at last. "Bringing _who_ back?"

She feels Kylo startle at the implication like a sharp pinch along her nerves. Biting back a wince, she flashes a quick smile before turning away. "She'll know."

* * *

It's difficult, but not impossible, to fly a freighter without a co-pilot. Rey works through the process of firing up the craft with as much calm as she can grasp; given that Kylo's conscience is still tangled amidst her own and she desperately wants to get him out of her head now that the chance of her mind wandering into areas of thought she doesn't want him privy to, are on the table.

Still, there's a surprising - if somewhat disturbing - level of reassurance to having a direct line as her hands move to input the co-ordinates he subconsciously relays to her.

"Where are we going, Kylo?" she mutters, aware that he's directing them to a barren area of space where no planets exist. Not even the truly uninhabitable ones. But he can't reply. Not with words. Only with impressions, and even those are fading as she feels his mind recede to the very edge of her own.

Once the Falcon is safely in autopilot and hurtling through a hyperspace lane, Rey moves to fetch the medpac and enter the crew's quarters where the stormtroopers left him.

At a glance, it's easy to see why Finn assumed Kylo dead. The pallor of his skin is almost grey, though now there's a thin sheen of sweat on his face that indicates his body is fighting infection. Rey frowns, having expected him to be on the verge of waking by now.

Removing a fine pair of scissors from the medpac, she cuts away at the fabric surrounding his wound. It's nasty. The raptor that caught him with its talon was a large beast and she wonders at how he kept the injury to himself; continuing to fight despite the pain of the poison that eventually cast him in this state of in-between.

""Lucky for you I replenished the medical supplies." She begins cleaning away the blood that has dried at its edges. The injury has already begun to fester. The surrounding skin reddening with the heat of infection. "Though… This looks like it needs something stronger than an application of bacta spray."

A thin strand of worry threads its way into her mind as she applies the spray. Kylo's mind is still silent within her own. Too silent. She can feel his presence, but only barely. As if he's holding on by the tips of subconscious fingers, and his grip is failing.

"It's a mild toxin, Ben. Despite what I said earlier, plenty have survived it and you of all people should be one of them."

Laying a hand to his brow, Rey sweeps away a damp, tangled lock of hair and traces her fingers in a pattern across his forehead. A gesture she imagines to be soothing, though she can't remember why.

But he remains oblivious. His chest moves. His heart beats. But his mind is as still and fathomless as a pond without a ripple.

"You almost look innocent when you're sleeping. Perhaps we should keep you comatose," she jokes aloud, resting a hand against his chest so that she can feel the beat of his heart through her palm. "Though, I imagine our conversations would get dull pretty fast."

There is a measure of bravado to Rey's tone that she doesn't feel. A little kernel of worry in her mind suggests that the wound could have been deeper than she realised. Could have punctured an organ. Could have him bleeding out internally as she sits here making one-sided small talk.

"If you're faking this just to get me to be nice to you…" She pauses then, eyes narrowing as she scrutinises his face for so much as the twitch of an eye beneath its lid. "Well, it's working."

Nothing. Not a flicker.

A coil of fear wrenches within her. She forces it back, tilting her chin in defiance of the tears that threaten.

"I don't want to be alone," she whispers finally, feeling a hollowness open within her at the thought of how many more notches she might etch upon a wall before her time is up. "Please, Ben. I need you to be with me."

There is still comfort to be found in seeing his chest move. But the movement is slight. And though she wouldn't dare to time it, she knows the seconds between each intake grow longer. It makes no sense. No sense at all that the might Kylo Ren could strike down the likes of Snoke, only to be taken out by the talon of a stupid ripper-raptor.

Leaning in, she touches her lips to his forehead. His hairline. The shell of his ear. "Be with me. _Be with me..._ "

His breath ghosts across her cheek. Too slow. Too shallow.

Sitting back, she returns her hand to his chest. To the comfort of his heart's rhythmic thump. "I don't know what to do." The words quaver and she bites the inside of her cheek to hold herself steady. "I don't know… I need you to help me. I need you to teach me what to do. _I need a teacher._ "

Closing her eyes, she breathes deep, centering herself as she focuses on the Force. Feeling it ebb and flow around her. Through her. Envisioning it as a part of all things. Good and bad. Alive and dead. The tangible. The intangible…

Heat collects within the pit of Rey's stomach and moves up through her chest. Into the cavity she felt to be so empty. Gathering and gathering until her body feels as if it might explode if she doesn't release it.

Beneath her fingertips, Kylo's chest continues to rise and fall. His heart continues its slow beat. His breath remains even. But shallow. So shallow.

Brows furrowed in concentration, she coaxes the energy within her to move, to channel down her arm. Through her fingers. Heat flows from her palm like a dam exploding. Rolling from her in torrents until finally, the surge ebbs. Leaving her palm tingling as if shocked.

Beneath her fingertips, Kylo's chest continues to rise and fall. His heart continues its beat. Faster now. Stronger.

She opens her eyes.

And meets Kylo's own. Wide and staring and bright.

"Hey," she says softly, relief causing her shoulders to sag.

"Hey," he returns, his gaze sweeping her with a measure of awe and confusion. Slowly, cautiously, he sits. Watching her with wary eyes as if afraid she might bolt if he spooks her. "Are you okay?"

Wordless, Rey nods, her head dropping to his shoulder as exhaustion overcomes relief. Overcomes all else.

"Thank you," he murmurs, and she feels his arms slide around her back. To cradle her carefully to him as if he's unsure how to hold something so fragile. And as her conscience drifts away into sleep, she wonders what that fragile thing can be. Her? No. She's as strong as...

But the thought goes unfinished. Her mind, body and spirit now needing its own time to recover from giving away a part of herself that, whether she likes it or not, will remain intangibly fused to this man forever.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Summary:_ _Rey and Kylo run a gauntlet of emotions whilst dealing with the after-effects of their Force Heal session._

* * *

 **Conversations  
Part XI**

When Rey wakes, she's lying on the bunk Kylo previously occupied, a soft grey Resistance-issue blanket draped over her. For several minutes she stays perfectly still, staring at the underside of the bunk above her as the low hum of the Falcon's engines tug her back towards sleep.

She could almost do it. She could almost close her eyes and drift away again. Her body, when she finally moves to flex her muscles, feels as though it has been stretched and pulled from all angles. Her mind feels like it's undergone the same regimen. Yes. She could easily sleep a little while longer yet.

But when she moves to pull the blanket a little further around herself, her groggy brain finally strays from its scrutiny of aches and pain to consider how she came to be lying on the bunk, tucked in with a blanket, after all that had happened the last time she was conscious.

"Ben?" Swinging herself out of bed, she pads down the corridor towards the cockpit. It's empty, and Rey finds herself releasing a breath of relief as she sinks into the pilot seat and stares at the streaming ribbon of stars beyond the viewport.

She's not sure how to face him, she realises with sudden clarity. Not now that she's revealed so much of herself. _Given away_ so much of herself. She can feel him still on the outer edge of her conscience. His fury. His softness. His loneliness. His turmoil. She feels it like an echo. And yet now more than ever she can't determine whether he is Kylo Ren, or Ben Solo.

He is both. He is neither. He is a stranger. Sharing her ship.

The sudden beep of an incoming communication snaps her attention to the control panel. She stares without moving at the flashing yellow light. Of all the things she's not yet ready to contend with, General Organa's questions are ranked highest.

Mercifully, the shrill sound eventually stops.

A quick glance to the nav computer reveals that he's adjusted their course. Questioning him on it is a practical matter she _can_ deal with, and after satisfying herself that all else is in order, she heads back into the corridor; completing a quick circuit of the Falcon as she makes her way to the main hold.

It's empty.

But for an unfamiliar rucksack on the floor. Its contents piled without care beside it.

Ignoring the bag as an anomaly to investigate shortly, Rey turns back into the corridor to begin a more careful sweep of the ship.

There is a mild sense of unease pooling in her stomach as she finds each and every nook and cranny of the Falcon empty, so that her gut has become a deep well of despair by the time she returns to the main hold.

The rucksack on the floor has her attention now.

She stares, tempering down the panic that Kylo Ren has somehow sent her into a trap and shipped himself back to the First Order in an escape pod. How would that be, she thinks numbly, for irony.

 _That wouldn't happen_ , she tries to reassure herself. _That's just ridiculous. In fact, it's not even technically possible._ But her hands shake with trepidation nevertheless as she crouches down to investigate the bag; reaching out to pick up what seems to be a well-worn -

"You can throw that over here, if you don't mind."

Jumping to her feet, Rey spins on her heel, eyes wandering the seemingly empty hold until her gaze falls upon the dimly-lit recess of the relief pilot's bunk, where a pale face looks out at her from amidst the depths of a blanket.

"Oh." She flushes. "There you are. Of course."

He raises himself to an elbow. "Where else did you expect me to be?"

The smile he offers softens his face and she quickly turns from it, hurling the black knit jersey towards him as he throws back the blanket and begins to sit.

"I didn't really pay you much thought at all, actually." She keeps her attention on the rucksack as if doing so will prove her point, and wonders at the assortment of clothing piled at her feet. "Are you normally this messy?"

"Worse."

"I don't believe you."

"Then why did you ask?"

When he steps towards her, Rey's suddenly reminded of just how small the main hold is. Of how this man dominates the room so that she feels pressed from all sides by his presence. He stops short of crossing into her personal space, though the gaze he assesses her with makes her feel as if they share the same breath nonetheless.

"I found the bag in a cargo crate," he explains, "figured on helping myself to something that isn't soaked in blood."

She doesn't really hear his words, but she manages a vague 'uh-huh' while staring at his face and trying to determine what has changed. Because something has definitely changed, and it's not just that the rugged, casual-style jumper softens his hard Sith-like edges.

His brow creases with concern as he watches her watching him. "How are you feeling?"

 _Who are you?_ Her brain wants to ask. _Ben, or Kylo?_

It's unsettling.

"Good," she nods vigorously. Too vigorously. "I feel good. And you?"

He is silent. But for that quizzical arch of a brow that confuses her further. And when she flinches away as he moves to touch a hand to her cheek, she feels the echo of his own bewilderment.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

No. She wants to say. No, I'm not okay. I'm not sure how to speak to you without yelling. I'm not sure how to read you when your eyes are gentle and your voice is kind. I'm not sure who you are. What to call you. I'm not sure why I feel as if everything around me is spinning out of control even though I'm standing still and -

"Rey?"

"I'm fine," she nods again, turning away, "I'm going back to sleep."

* * *

.

The next time she wakes, she finds him sitting at the Dejarik table, frowning at the holographic creatures as he attempts to outwit himself in a game.

He glances up as she enters, and the long look of consideration he gives her leaves her with the distinct impression that he's not simply sizing her up as a potential holochess opponent. He has, she suspects, been left alone on the Falcon with far too much time to _think_.

"You were lying about those things you said to me in the tunnel," he begins, confirming her hunch, "I could sense it in your voice."

"Right." Rey nods, sliding into the nearby seat. "And that's why you got so angry, huh?"

Closing his mouth, he folds his arms across his chest and leans back, silent as Rey helps herself to his next move on the board. They play on for a couple of minutes without speaking. Until the tension grows so thick that Rey can almost see it as a physical thing, suspended in the air between them.

"So. Poe Dameron."

The three words drop like stones, and though she has her gaze fixed firm upon the game before her, Rey imagines that little muscle must be twitching overtime beneath his left eye.

Yes. She can actually _feel_ the weight of his stare - but only until she lifts her eyes from the game and returns it - at which point he skitters away and fixes his attention on the wall beyond her.

For someone who claims to know she was lying, he's doing a bad job of composing his emotions.

"Do you object?" she asks finally, as deadpan serious as she can manage.

Blinking, his eyes dart back to her before flicking away again. A muscle works in his jaw for several seconds as if he's digesting several protests at once before settling on just the one.

"Yes."

"And why would that be?" she presses, even as a little voice inside her head asks her why she's baiting him.

"I don't care who you choose to get involved with," he says quietly. Each word clipped and concise. "Just not _him_."

"So… Finn?"

"Don't you da-" cutting his words off with a snarl, he jumps to his feet. "I'm done with this game."

As she watches him storm towards the cockpit, she feels her stomach sink. She could have handled that differently. She could have put him out of his turmoil and told him…

She could have handled that differently.

* * *

.

As the Force would have it, their conversation isn't over.

Rey returns to the crew's quarters with an immediate plan to cleanse herself of several layers of Jakku grime, fix herself something to eat, and seek him out to start their conversation again. But after a quick trip to the 'fresher she only gets so far as tearing open a ration pack before she feels the familiar tug of the bond opening.

Smiling, she lifts her eyes, "we'll you've saved me from walking fifty feet to apologise for being a -"

The words fade along with the smile as she recognises the look on his face. It's the same look he met her with when she shipped herself to the Supremacy. The one that says she's done something foolish, and he has no idea how to fix it. Or whether he should even try.

"Uh-oh," she begins slowly, "I take it you've been thinking again."

"Your friend thinks I'm dead," he states with accusation, rising to approach her from what she assumes to be the cockpit's pilot seat.

"Ah," she nods, stepping around the countertop to meet him.

"Once your friend returns to the Resistance with that news, the whole galaxy is going to believe me dead. Including General Hux. Who will take such information as an opportunity to appointment himself in my place."

"I know. Ben..."

Rey stops as he flinches from the name, and grits her teeth at his insistence on holding on to the First Order. The title of Supreme Leader. The facade of Kylo Ren. All the things that stop him from stepping out from the darkness. All the things that stop her from standing by his side.

"Can't you see? It's your chance to start afresh."

He pauses, sucking in a sharp breath. "If you truly believe that, why did you give him that message. For General Organa."

"Do you really want your _mother_ to think you dead?" Of course he does, she answers herself silently. She can feel his resistance pulsing through the Force. "Can you not see this as an opportunity to -"

"She's not my mother," he says flatly, "not anymore."

"She'll _always_ be your mother," Rey forces her voice to remain soft, "whether you like it or not. Besides, she would know if you were dead. She'd feel it."

"No," he insists, "she wouldn't. I cut myself off from her in the Force a long time ago."

"I don't believe that's true." It's all Rey can do to not step right through the manifestation, stride down to the cockpit and slap the real man upside the head. "And even if it were, she hasn't returned the sentiment."

He steps in until he looms over her. "You don't seem to be listening to me, Rey."

"No, _you_ don't seem to be listening to me, _Kylo_. You've already taken away her husband. _Don't_ make Leia lose her son as well."

For a moment he is wordless, and she uses the opportunity to make one last statement before slamming the bond shut with all the energy she can muster. "And _don't you dare_ tell me he's already lost to her. Because he's not."

Sinking to her bunk, she rolls herself onto the mattress and buries her face into the pillow. The rumble of her empty stomach follows her into sleep.

The third time Rey wakes, it's to the aroma of food.

Not the sharp, duroplast smell of polystarch bread, but something rich and exotic and out of place from anything she would expect to find aboard a tired old freighter.

She inhales slowly, trying to taste the flavours in the air, and when her stomach starts to rumble in response to the tease of a meal, she allows herself to open her eyes. To face again, a conversation with a volatile stranger.

"Sorry for disturbing you, but I'm starving. Figured you would be too."

Cracking one eye open, she watches the unlikely sight of Kylo's huge frame moving about the small kitchenette that occupies one side of the crew's quarters. Two plates sit on the countertop, and when she cranes her head she can spy what appears to be watery grey goop slopped into the center of each.

"What is _that_?"

"I'm not sure," he admits, "it was in this..."

The silver foil packet he waves at her is sadly familiar.

"Polystarch bread." Curiosity piqued, Rey crosses the cabin to investigate the watery mess on the plates. "Not quite sure how anyone can get that wrong."

"Well, I had no idea what to do with it," he shrugs, "it's lumpy soup now."

A ping from the nanowave draws him away and he fetches a covered bowl from within it.

"Fortunately, I found this in one of the cargo holds," he inclines his head towards a supply box bearing First Order insignia, "now _this_ is something I'm familiar with. Say hello to the First Order's finest..."

Uncovering the bowl with a flourish, his shoulders drop in defeat as he reveals a wizened red-brown husk dried to its bottom.

"Admittedly, I had no idea what to do with this, either."

Rey lifts her gaze from the overcooked food-type-thing and stares at the man before her. Any confusion she felt towards him previously, now heightened tenfold.

"What?" lowering the lid to the bowl, he returns her stare, "what have I done?"

"I'm not sure," Rey blinks at last, "I'm still just trying to figure out… Who the hell you are."

It's the wrong thing to say, she realises as he draws himself taller; his face settling into that cool aloofness that has her wishing she could backpedal her words.

"I mean, you're not a cook, that's for sure," stepping around him, she begins rifling through the box of food stores he's uncovered, "but fortunately for you… I've spent a lifetime learning to be self-sufficient."

"So in the course of trying to figure out who I am," he states slowly, "you've determined that I am pandered. And helpless."

"Oh." Her attempt at good humour sags as she grips the edge of the countertop and closes her eyes, mentally facepalming as she wonders if now would be too soon for another nap. "I'm sorry."

"You're right though," he says quietly, reaching for a new packet of The First Order's finest, "so far as domestic duties are concerned, I've had droids to attend my every whim for most of my life. And while I can spit-roast a womp-rat if push comes to shove, I wouldn't know how to cook reconstituted foodstuffs to save myself."

Rey opens her mouth and closes it again as it occurs to her that his words are a peace offering. This whole meal is a peace offering.

Unsure how to process that or what to say in return, she shifts her attention to the insignia stamped upon the crate. "Well, your supply freighters have been fun to hit. You really like to leave yourself open to attack."

"We know," he counters, "you should be more careful - most of the crates have trackers embedded in them. "

Without breaking eye contact, Rey reaches to the lid of the box, wrenches off the inner lining and holds up a small black device. "You mean one of these?"

Kylo's eyes widen in alarm. "Rey…"

"Relax, _Supreme Leader,_ " she drawls, "we've known how to neutralise your trackers for ages."

Lifting the foil packet from his hands, she tears it open and dumps the contents into a clean bowl. "Your food supplies never have instructions on them but it's usually standard fare. Polystarch bread, protein paste..."

"Stormtrooper fare," he nods. "Well, this time you nabbed yourself the top-level stuff. I believe when mixed with the correct quantity of water, it becomes dindra sauce." At her blank, unappreciative stare, he tries to elaborate further. "It goes well with berbersian crab salad. Not that we'll find any of _that_ around here, unfortunately, but at least it'll make the trooper rations more palatable."

"Uh-huh." She has no idea what dindra sauce is. Or berbersian crab for that matter. And stormtrooper rations is the stuff she grew up on. "Well, let's hope we can get this right without producing a shrivelled up overcooked husk this time."

Smiling, he steps away to mix water into the new concoction and put it in the nanowave. "Next time I'm aboard my ship, I'll remember to bring back a service droid for you."

Rey's good mood fades at his mention once more of returning to the First Order. _Kylo Ren_ , she reminds herself. _Not Ben._

"My father made this kitchenette for my mother," he says suddenly, his voice stilted and awkward. "As a wedding present."

"Oh?" Rey eyes him quizzically, sensing that he's attempting to lighten the mood. Though it surprises her that he's chosen a family memory in order to do so. "That was nice of him."

"Was it? Really?" He raises a brow, incredulous. "Would _you_ be happy with a kitchen as a wedding gift?"

The question catches Rey off-guard, enough so that she stops what she's doing; mouth hanging half-open on an answer she can't quite form.

"Not that I'm… I mean, I don't mean for _you_ exactly… I just mean… rhetorically..." ducking his head, he bites his lip and tries again. "My point is that this kitchen was always a source of contention for my parents. One of many."

"Of course," Rey nods, "I couldn't imagine General Organa playing the role of domestic housewife."

"No, absolutely not," he laughs. "Han wasn't always the best at reading woman."

"Well," she smiles, "at least you learnt from his mistake and offered me a servant droid."

For a moment he says nothing, just stares as if astonished. Rey blinks, the pause allowing her to mentally backtrack and recognise her insinuation.

"Oh." She drops her gaze to the mid-space between them, a flush of embarrassment breaking out over her skin. "I didn't mean to imply…"

"Rey," he interrupts softly, reaching for her wrist with his hand, "it's okay."

Blinking hard, she stares at his fingers on her skin. The warm flush reforms into a kernel of heat that threatens to explode in her chest. _Kylo? Ben?_ Suddenly it's important for her to _know_ , and she raises her eyes to search his own as if the answer might be somewhere in his gaze.

And perhaps it isn't, but the look on his face is so open and full of want, she feels her breath catch in her chest. With the smallest flex of his hand, he tugs her closer, his eyes searching her own as if seeking permission.

"Ben…" she begins. A plea.

"Perhaps," he finishes. Voice tight. Eyes soft. Drawing her in. His hand gently running up her arm as her own momentum cleaves her to him. Mouth parting to lick his lips as he dips his head. Arms sliding around shoulder. Waist. Breath catching.

And then the noise of the Falcon's engines abruptly change. The pitched whine of the hyperdrive cuts off as the ship drops out of hyperspace with a sudden stomach-spilling jolt.

Rey wrenches herself away, knowing without having to look to a viewport that the old freighter is in trouble. "I have a bad feeling… Do you have a bad feeling?"

"I had… _a_ feeling?" He offers with a twist of a smile.

But then she's rolling her eyes and this time it's her turn to reach out and grab his wrist as the lights flicker, momentarily plunging them into darkness before coming back on at half-power. "Come on, let's find out what's going on."

* * *

 **Notes:**  
 _ **Food:** According to Wookieepedia, Berbersian Crab Salad is described as 'a dish that consisted of crisp Naboo Lettuce and Buttered crap sticks. It could be served with dindra sauce.' I decided to borrow it for my story, figuring that top-level FO people like to enjoy some perks of the job every now and then. You know, asides from bossing everyone around and striving for galaxy domination._

 _ **The kitchen:** Han installing a kitchenette onboard the Millenium Falcon as a wedding gift to Leia is a thing. Canonised as of The Force Awakens Incredible Cross-sections._

 _ **This chapter was a mess:** Yep, sorry about that. While trying to figure out exactly where I wanted to go with this chapter, I wrote the content of each scene as a potential opener. Then decided to merge it all together into one ramshackled rollercoaster of emotional confusion. I hoped it would work as both a physical and psychological side-effect of an intense force-heal session, and I also want to leave Rey wondering whether she'd managed to heal Kylo/Ben's spirit as well as his body, or whether he's still in conflict as to his identity. (Well, guess he's still kind of on the fence about that - psychological change doesn't come _that _easy!) Then I went and shoe-horned the 'Han gave Leia a kitchenette how'd you feel about a droid' thing and... Gimme a couple days to come back to this fic with fresh eyes and I'll be facepalming until I leave my forehead with a permanent indentation._ _Actually, I probably_ should _sit on this fic a couple more days before posting, but... Ah well. Frak it. *hits Post*_


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: Thank you to the comments and favs/follows, I really do appreciate the encouragement! Knowing there's people actually reading this waffle is what keeps me returning to plod away at it again and again, even if it's only to squeeze a few words out here and there._

* * *

 **Conversations**  
 **\- Part XII-**

.

"The hyperdrive has shut down and the sublight engines are refusing to engage." Rey checks a few overhead switches before tapping a touchpad on the cockpit control panel. "But at least we know the warp vortex stabilizer still works. And life support."

Kylo meets her small burst of laughter with a blank frowning stare; an expression that remains a stoic fixture even as the overhead light flickers with a power fluctuation and casts dancing shadows across his face.

"See, this is why you should have traded in this junk bucket for something - anything - else." The barely checked frustration is evident as he scrubs a hand across his face and groans into his palm, "a modified Gungun Bongo, for example, would've been an improvement."

"You can't seriously hate the Millenium Falcon that much?" Rey snorts. Kylo looks up from behind clenched hands with an expression that sends a very clear _yes_.

"Okay," she mutters leaning across him to flip some switches, "maybe you can."

"Don't forget I've known this flying garbage chute longer than you," he reaches to still her hand with his own. "And that won't work. The problem - one of the problems anyway - is in the rectenna. I'm guessing the Siep-Irol sensor has shorted out, which means that without the ability to process topographical information from any potential nearby obstacles -"

"- the sublight engines won't engage without knowing where we're going." Rey finishes, stomach sinking.

He nods. "We can hard reset the nav computer, but until we get the rectenna repaired, we're floating trash."

Rey stares for a long moment, expecting him to tag on a derogatory quip. When it's apparent he's actually going to hold his tongue, her attention shifts to question, "what do _you_ know of fixing this ship, anyway?"

"Muscle memory," Kylo says with a shrug, a strange expression on his face.

An impression comes to Rey's mind of a ten-year-old boy, handing his father a plasma welder as the Falcon drifts along the edge of an asteroid field. _"That's the one, Ben. See, you're better help than an astromech. Better company, too"_

Beside her Kylo freezes, caught for a moment in the memory, she wonders. But before she can say a word, he's shaking his head back to the present. "The problem's on the outside. We need to get an astromech out to the rectenna to fix it. But since we don't have a droid…"

Rey nods in understanding. "I'll have to call in a favour from Finn. You can hide in the cargo hold while BB8 sorts out the rectenna, and I'll tell them I vented you out with the garbage -"

"Call in a favour. From FN-2187." A dark cloud passes over Kylo's face. "I'd sooner throw on an EVA suit and fix it myself."

"Yes. I'm sure you would." Rey folds her arms across her chest. "Except there are no EVA suits onboard."

Running a hand through his hair, Kylo leans back into the pilot seat and stares through the transparisteel canopy above as he ponders their options.

Rey sucks in a breath, conflict pulling at her like a caught thread. In his casual black sweater with tousled hair and day-old stubble on his jaw, he doesn't fit the guise of _Kylo Ren_ at all. Right now, he could just be the roguish son of Han Solo. If only he would allow himself.

"Ben?"

Drawing his gaze from the stars beyond the canopy, he looks to her with expectancy. She waits for him to correct her on the name, but he just raises a brow for her to continue as if he hasn't even noticed. Like it's muscle memory.

"I umm…" she flounders, searching her brain for words to chase the sudden flush from her cheeks.

"We need my shuttle," he interrupts suddenly, leaning forward. "I'll send a mayday signal to the _Retribution_."

"Ben, no. That's a terrible id-"

"It's a perfect idea. I'll tell Hux I escaped capture by the Resistance and instruct him to prepare the shuttle with our co-ordinates. My BB-unit will take care of the rest." He pauses, adding as an afterthought, "that's not my name."

" _Urgh!_ " Rey rolls her eyes. "We're back to _this_? The moment you contact the First Order, you tell them you're still alive. This is your chance to - can't you just - think about this for a bit?"

"Rey, I've already contacted the First Order."

"What?" Rey freezes. Stunned.

"Listen -"

"I can't believe I actually thought you might -"

"No, listen!" Kylo's roar cuts through Rey's protests. The eye tic flutters. "If I didn't undo that kind of damage - if I allowed Hux to gain control, he would undo everything I'm trying to… You know, I thought we were done with this discussion already."

He twists off the words with a snarl, spinning the seat away as he glares once more at the stars beyond them.

For a long moment, Rey fights to get her own anger under control as she stares in silence at his profile. There's a ferocity to the set of Kylo's jaw that she recognizes well. The difference is, she's not afraid of him anymore.

"You brought me into this to help defeat an enemy to both of us," she says gently, "but what becomes of _us_ after we take out Palpatine?"

In the silence that follows, it occurs to her that perhaps _neither_ of them have really thought this far ahead, until now.

Sinking into the co-pilot's seat, she swivels towards him with a sigh. "Can you honestly tell me you'll return to the First Order after this and continue hunting down the Resistance? Me? Your mother? Because if that's the case, I think it best we go our separate ways now, Supreme Leader."

A low sound escapes Kylo's throat, and something in her mind tells her it's despair. She waits, relentless, as he chews the inside of his mouth. As if trying out the taste of his response.

Finally, he swings his seat towards her. The depth of weariness in his eyes is confronting. "Let me put it to you this way, Rey, since you can't seem to see it any other. Who would you prefer to be leading the First Order? Me, or General Hux?"

"I know nothing of Hux, nor of his capabilities as a leader," she grinds, irritation rising once more. "I only know of the terrible things _Kylo Ren_ has done. And yet, that's the name you expect me to call you by - and trust you on. Can you not see where I'm coming from?"

He says nothing to that, and she silently notches it up as a small win. If only for a fleeting moment.

"Hux is the man responsible for the destruction of the entire Hosnian system," he says finally. "Hux has overseen the indoctrination of a new generation of stormtroopers - children stolen from their homes. Under his command."

"Are you trying to tell me you disagree with that?" Rey can't even try to hide her disbelief. "Because if that were true, why keep him around? Why not demote him and replace him with someone else?"

"Who? Cut off the head of one and another…" Kylo hisses through gritted teeth. "Even as Supreme Leader, my hands are tied in bureaucracy. The best I can do for now is to keep him leashed."

From the edge of her peripheral, she sees him fidget. Fingers reaching out as if to take her own before pulling away again. She holds her own hands tightly balled into fists. This is not a conversation to evoke tenderness.

 _Rey, please._

The entreat comes to her through the Force. Not in words, directly, but the feeling of words. Like an imprint. Surprise overrides anger as her attention snaps back to Kylo. He holds her in place with steady, solemn eyes.

"This is why I need you at my side," he says softly. So softly, the words are barely more than the exhalation of air.

"Stop." Rey pulls back, "I don't want to hear this again."

He recoils. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

A scattering of retorts come to Rey's mind and dissipate before she can form them on her tongue. A part of her yearns to say yes, she trusts him, even though it makes no sense to do so. The rest holds against such recklessness; reminding her that while he continues to parade himself as _Kylo Ren_ , this man is her enemy. Regardless of whatever mutual adversary they might currently work against.

It's an ever-revolving argument in her head that she feels will never have a resolution. So she stares out the viewport and says nothing.

"Rey." Impatience frays at the edge of Kylo's voice. "I've known your location from the moment you fled Crait. I knew when you were on Kashyyyk. I knew when you were on Ahch-To. Your presence is like a _beacon_ in the Force - you can't hide from me."

It's the raw ache in his voice that catches her. She turns, meeting wide brown eyes that soften as she casts her gaze upon them. But then he has to go and open his stupid mouth again.

"More so, I know exactly where your precious Resistance are hiding - right this moment."

"You're bluffing." Rey holds her voice steady, wishing he would just stop. Stop with the talking. Stop with the _eyes_.

"Ajan Kloss," Kylo continues, relentless.

"But I've never been there…" She flinches with sudden understanding. "You've been inside my head."

Anger makes her voice tremble; which makes her angrier still. Distantly she wonders how much of it she can hold within herself before her seams split.

"No. I guessed some time ago." There's a twitch to the corners of his lips. The tug of a smile, if it can be believed. "Your reaction just confirmed my suspicion - you really should stop doing that."

"That's impossible. Out of all the potential planets in the galaxy. How could you possibly guess that one?" Rey's mind spins. Did he pluck this information from her while she was sleeping? Has he already informed the First Order? Is their current predicament all a ruse so he can stall for time as his Star Destroyer enters the stratosphere of the jungle planet to launch an attack -

"Ajan Kloss belongs to my mother." Kylo catches her thoughts; trapping them as surely as he folds her tightly clenched fists within his hands. "It became an Alderaan stronghold before the galactic civil war. I started my Jedi training there, in fact. So it wasn't actually a difficult conclusion to draw."

She chews on his words. It explains a few things about Leia's nostalgia for the planet. "Alright."

"If I was going to annihilate the Resistance, I would've done it by now." His gaze is steady, searching. "Please, Rey…"

"Okay." She swallows thickly, the panic in her chest tampering somewhat.

He nods, his face relaxing into relief. "Every single time Hux has come close to sniffing you out - and he has - I've sent him off the trail. Don't you see? This is why the First Order must know I'm alive - why I must continue to be in control. For now."

 _For now._ Yeah, right, she thinks.

* * *

It's going to take three standard days for Kylo's shuttle to reach them.

There's a bitter kind of mirth in his voice when he relays to Rey his initial communication with the First Order. General Hux was less than pleased to find out the role of Supreme Leader had not been vacated after all, but with three other First Order generals patched through to the holo transmission, he could hardly protest. Instead, he could only return a grudging promise to make the necessary arrangements while grinding out thin gratitude for the serendipity of the Supreme Leader's survival.

A part of Rey feels an odd ache in her chest as she listens to Kylo's narration. She can see through his facade. The hatred he and Hux share with each other is probably the closest his adult self has come to knowing friendship. In that respect, it makes her former business relationship with Unkar Plutt seem a warm and tender thing.

"I need to check in with Finn." She blurts when silence falls between them long enough for her to consider the predicament they're in.

"You need to check in with -" Kylo tries to repeat her statement in his typically deadpan manner, but the ex-stormtrooper's name seems to form a blockage in his throat.

"He'll be expecting an update." Rey continues, perhaps a little too defensively.

"What is he, your father now?" he snaps, ignoring the sudden stunned look on her face. "Or is he your…"

Whatever Kylo intends to say next sticks even more in his throat, and she watches in odd fascination as his face contorts with a volley of emotions before settling once more into a mask of something that resembles calm.

"Never mind," he mutters finally, pushing himself to his feet. "Just don't disclose our location."

The look he gives her before he turns away fills her with a strange sad ache. And then he's gone. Striding off down the corridor with heavy footsteps that rattle an echo right to the very base of her stomach.

He's jealous of her friendship with Finn, she realizes with sudden clarity.

For a long time after Kylo has left, she remains in the Falcon's cockpit; staring out at distant stars that seem to hang suspended in space. She feels as if a cavity has suddenly opened up within her chest, leaving behind something hollow and aching. And when she finally reaches for the comm, it's with the heaviness of knowing that no matter what happens when this mission is over - no matter what side Kylo Ren falls to - she's going to lose someone she cares for, regardless.

* * *

 _Another author note:_ _Don't dig too deep into my reason for the Falcon to be cast adrift in space - canonically, the ship has flown without a functioning rectenna, but I decided deep space with no sensors is a hazard. So maybe someone installed a kill switch for safety purposes after the last time the dang thing got knocked off._

 _Anyways, Rey and Kylo (cause he's not_ quite _ready for Ben yet) have a couple of days up their sleeves to chillax in deep space. Maybe yell at each other some more. Have a food fight. A deep meaningful heart to hearts... The sharing of childhood experiences. The sharing of some other kind of experience. Who knows? If anyone has any suggestions on what they'd like to read, I'm all ears._


	13. Chapter 13

_AN: This short chapter is just a bit of a filler, but it's also a quick thank you to those who have kept me propped up with encouragement. Now I have to get back to that website build and gift fic project, but I welcome any ongoing comments to help keep my inspiration afloat and brighten my day!_

* * *

 **Conversations**  
 **Part XIII**

.

"So, what exactly happened to Shira Ren?"

Rey's question catches Kylo off-guard, so much so that he slops his bowl of dindra sauce over his hands and onto the floor as he removes it from the nanowave.

Dropping the bowl quickly to the bench, he snatches up a handful of napkins to clean his hands before mopping up the mess on the floor, fussing in a way that makes her think he's stalling.

"Ben?" She winces before correcting herself; his _other_ name grinding between her teeth with no small measure of resentment. " _Kylo_?"

He pauses in his cleaning then, shoulders stiffening as he draws himself slightly upwards. For a moment she thinks he's actually going to answer her, but then he resumes his mopping of the floor. With a sudden burst of vigour.

For a long moment, she watches him and wonders whether to let the subject go. But it's a question that's been niggling at her from the moment he handed her that awful black gown, and she decides she's going to get a damned answer out of him if she has to rip it from his skull.

Picking up a handful of fresh napkins, she joins him at floor level, haphazardly smearing red sauce around the floor while staring at him intently. It seems they wage a silent battle of wills as he holds his silence and patently ignores her, but finally, the weight of her stare causes him to raise his head; tumbled black locks curtaining his expression. _Cheat_ , she thinks. Not that it's hard to guess at the scowl.

Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth in exasperation, Rey tries again. "What happened to Shira Ren."

"I've told you this already," Kylo says finally, the words a hiss of irritation. "She betrayed me. So I killed her."

Rey has the distinct impression he's trying to remember exactly _what_ he told her of his Knight's fate - so as to avoid cross-contaminating his own story. After a moment, she swipes the tangled locks from his eyes with sauce-covered fingers, forcing him to meet her own.

"Yes, I know that much. But you never told me exactly _why_. Only that…" she tilts her head in exaggerated thought, "she tried to kill me, and you lost your TIE because of it all. To be perfectly honest, the story sounds unlikely. I'm sure you can understand why I question it."

A groan of frustration escapes him. He pulls away, grimacing as his hair falls back into place only to smear red sauce across his cheek. Throwing the napkins into a sodden pile, he scuttles until his back is pressed against the side of the bench; legs splaying out before him as if he's resigned himself to his fate.

"It's a long story," he starts reluctantly. As if thinking _that's_ going to discourage her.

She snorts. "Well, we have a lot of time on our hands."

The scowl that pinches his face only causes her to grin. The smear of sauce has become a comical focal point; making his bad mood seem all the more ridiculous.

"You've got some…" She taps her own cheek with one hand while tossing a napkin to him with the other.

Ignoring the napkin, Kylo wipes the sauce with his thumb and considers it for a moment before popping it in his mouth, his face relaxing as he loses himself in the taste of his beloved dindra sauce.

Rey watches, lost in rapt attention as his tongue flicks the tip of his thumb before he draws it into his mouth. Full lips pulling softly over his thumb as his tongue works hard against it. Sucking it clean with a slurp.

Something shifts inside of her as she watches his tongue work over his skin. A shiver that builds in her stomach before burrowing itself deeper. It's only when she drags in a breath that she realises she's been staring at Kylo's goddamned mouth all this time.

And that he, in turn, has been staring at her.

Slowly he removes his thumb from his mouth, but the action only stokes the strange exotic shiver within her; sending it coursing beneath the surface of her skin like wildfire. Panic surges - chasing the fire as if to try and dampen it; only to act as an accelerant.

 _Can he see it_ , she wonders? Can he tell she's burning? Is her skin as aflame as it feels?

"Rey?"

She blinks and adjusts her gaze. Clutches at scattering thoughts to try and reign them back in.

"You were telling me…" she stops and clears her throat before sucking a deep breath into her lungs. "About Shira Ren."

"Oh for the sweet love…" Kylo sags back against the cupboard door. "You're not going to stop chewing on this, are you?"

"I'm like a ripper raptor," she smiles. Relaxing back into herself as the strange intimacy passes.

"Help me with this meal then," he says with a quirk of a brow, pushing himself to his feet before extending a hand towards her.

She hesitates, feeling suddenly as if she dangles over a precipice. Before allowing him to pull her to her feet.

* * *

They cook together in amiable silence. She, turning polystarch mix into light puffballs of bread (he just can't seem to stop himself from adding too much water) while he digs out a different sauce from amidst the First Order rations this time (it's like a ragu, Kylo says. But Rey has no idea what that's supposed to mean, and it just looks like dindra sauce, anyway.)

It's a pleasant kind of teamwork. _We fit_ , she thinks, as they finish serving up. And somehow that thought causes her gaze to be drawn to his mouth again, and she turns quickly away before he notices. Before he sees the stupid blush that flares upon her cheeks once more.

The dejarik board has become a tabletop for them to eat at, and she wonders if Han and Leia once shared their meals here too. Kylo meets her eyes across the table as if catching her thought. The sudden wistfulness on his face only serves to make her flush again. She wonders what the hell is wrong with her, while her mind asks, _does he feel it too?_

"So, Shira Ren." She almost regrets bringing up the Knight's name. But she needs the distraction.

"Was a Knight I sent to find Palpatine's observatory. Rumoured to be somewhere beneath Carbon Ridge." Kylo begins around mouthfuls. "She found it, but the old stormtroopers who defended it were resilient. They resisted her attempts at brute force, and without the skill to get into their heads, she couldn't manipulate them into telling her anything. She was useless. A lackey. Like all the Knights..."

"So you came to Jakku to sort it out for yourself," she prompts, anticipating the dark mood this brooding man is bound to fall into if left pondering the incompetence of his men.

"Yes. And then _you_ followed." He pauses then, holding her gaze across the table. "I still don't understand why?"

"Hmm." Pulling away from his probing eyes, Rey throws her attention into the food in front of her, tearing off chunks of polystarch bread as if liking the stuff. "Me neither," she mutters, "I mean, when I sensed you were in danger… I guess I thought you needed me."

He digests her words slowly, face carefully schooled. "I still don't understand why."

"Why I'd dare presume you might need me?" She says sharply.

"No," he says quietly. "Why you'd _care_."

Lifting her gaze from her plate, Rey grimaces as she catches Kylo idly dipping a finger into his share of sauce.

"We're talking about your story. Not mine." She patently ignores the way he slides his finger into his mouth before releasing it with a satisfying pop.

"Fair enough," Kylo nods, one brow arched as he watches her watch him. "Shira Ren wasn't strong in the Force, but she had enough ability to sense you when you landed upon Carbon Ridge. _You_. So strong in the light side of the Force. Like a beacon, even to us."

She bristles then, at the way he says 'us'. At the way he so casually separates himself from her. And there she was thinking she was a beacon just to _him_.

"Shira took the Silencer," he continues, "she was going to kill you. I couldn't let her do that."

"Why not?"

Kylo blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Why not just let her kill me?" Rey shrugs with all the nonchalance she can muster. "We're enemies, right?"

"Enemies. Right." He pushes his plate to one side then. Appetite gone. "Well, that would've been ideal, wouldn't it? But that I need you. To open the Holocron."

"The Holocron. Of course."

Stifling a sigh of frustration, it occurs to Rey then that they're both just stumbling through some ridiculous dance that neither of them quite know the steps to. But, she thinks, perhaps she's beginning to learn.

With the guile of a Jakku scavenger, she pushes her empty plate aside and snags Kylo's half-eaten meal towards her. Feeling his eyes upon her, she slides a finger through the sauce before raising it to her lips.

She pauses as his eyes drop to her mouth, before sliding her tongue along the length of her finger. In a sudden act of courage, she plunges her finger into her mouth, sucking the sauce with the softest of satisfied moans; watching through half-lidded eyes as Kylo's breath hitches in his chest and his knuckles whiten on the tabletop.

"And then we'll go back to being enemies, right?" She says finally, dipping her fingers again to the sauce. Scooping it up with two this time.

"Uh-huh." He manages. Breathless and oddly strangled.

She says nothing. But raises her fingers once more to her lips.

* * *

 _Notes:_

 _Random share: My 11-year-old daughter loves reading my fics, though I do tend to screen out the scenes where they get even vaguely UST-ish because... Well, she's 11! Like, the kind of 11 year old who still loves playing with dinosaurs and turns beet with embarrassment when her friends start talking about crushes. So even though nothing happens in this chapter bar innuendo, I'm still going to leave this chapter out of her reading list._

 _Which brings me to asking; anyone knows of any kid-friendly SW fics, please send me the recs! Seriously, I wish there was a kid-friendly fanfic archive *idly thinks about creating one*. I'm passionately interested in encouraging kids with their writing (the BA in Creative Writing I'm doing this year is to go towards a future teaching qualification) and fanfic is a great way to draw them into it, don't you think? *has gone way off topic*_


	14. Chapter 14

_Author note: Apologies for the time it's taken to get back to this story. Urgh, I don't really have my head in the game at all anymore, but I've given this chapter a shot._

 _This chapter was inspired by my new car, which beeps erratically for no good reason (though recent trial and error has revealed it likes to scold me for taking corners too fast, braking too hard at pedestrian crossings and not slowing appropriately for speed bumps) and sends messages across the screen that I'd have a chance at understanding if they were written in Aurebesh, and makes an occasional faulty-transmission mechanical whine except for when I'm trying to demonstrate it to the mechanic._

 _Anyway, I hope you're holding up well and staying safe. If anyone wants to say hi on Tumblr or be privy to future chapter sneak peaks, come visit me at acowlorsomething :)_

* * *

 **Conversations**

 **Part XIV**

On the second standard day that the _Millenium Falcon_ drifts through the Outer Rim, various systems begin sending off sporadic alerts. The sublight drive exhaust is the first to announce a searing warning throughout the ship; it's pitched and frantic bleep sending both Rey and Kylo running to the diagnostic console to check which part of the ship is falling apart this time.

Rey shrugs and scrubs a hand across her face, "sublight engines are all but offline anyway. Your droid will fix it."

But she spends an hour in the circuitry bay nonetheless, trying without success to troubleshoot the problem.

The second warning reveals a problem with the landing gear.

"Not like we're planning to land any time soon," Kylo grumbles after returning from the rear cargo hold. Rey raises a brow and says nothing as he disappears into the fresher to scrub grease and grime from his fingernails.

The third alarm to send them tumbling into the cockpit for diagnosis is the life support system. This time they both make their way to the forward cargo hold; neither one trusting the other to be capable, at this point.

"This is ridiculous," Rey huffs after half an hour of checking circuitry and running diagnostics, "The Falcon is playing with us."

Kylo grins, his face relaxing into easy dimples that cause Rey to glance twice at the way his features soften. "Well, I wouldn't be surprised."

Rey smiles briefly, unsure of how to respond to his banter - and floored by his easy smile. Since dinner, they've quietly avoided each other. Uncertain of what to make of the charged energy that seems to rise between them whenever they share the same space.

"Though, given that we _could_ be on the brink of a catastrophic loss of air pressure, I think it's best we ditch the scrap heap and take the shuttle when it arrives." Kylo turns his attention to the switches of the circuit board before Rey can reply. As if his outrageous suggestion can simply be absorbed without need of further comment.

"Wait," she splutters as his words sink in, "there's no way I'm _ditching_ the Falcon."

"I knew you'd say that," his voice is carefully light, "which is why I have a second option."

"Clearly this isn't something that's just occurred to you," she manages, breathing through the rising anger.

"I've practically prepared a presentation." Grabbing a datapad from a clasp in the wall, Kylo pulls up the navigation system as he crosses to her side. "We'll stash it here. See? In Jacen's Belt."

"An asteroid belt?" Rey's voice climbs three octaves as he points out the band of debris. "You think I'm going to agree to stash this ship in an _asteroid belt_?"

"Absolutely. We'll find a piece of rock to clamp it to and come back for it later." He holds her gaze, brown eyes widening with the projection of innocence. "I promise."

The flash of a smile crosses his face. He probably thinks it to be reassuring. But for a long moment Rey simply stares, surprised at how easily he can remind her of his father. Not that she'd tell him that, of course.

"You sound like Han." The words blurt out before she can stop them, and although she throws a hand over her mouth, there's really no retracting what was said.

Kylo is silent, though his jaw works; the tic beneath his eye beginning its sporadic flutter as his hands curl into fists at his side.

 _Oh good. The trifecta._ Rey thinks. And braces herself for the tirade.

"You're trying to distract me," he says evenly, "but it won't work. You can't deny this is a good idea."

"I can't understand why you'd think hiding the Falcon in an asteroid belt to be anything but a _bad_ one," she retorts.

"Why? Smugglers use them all the time," Kylo shrugs. "My father once hid in the Hoth asteroid field for _days_. It's where he and my mother first…"

His words drifts away then, his gaze fixing on the mid-distance.

 _"Your mother kissed me in an asteroid belt while we were hiding from -"_

 _You kissed me, you scoundrel!" Leia gives her husband a light shove as she steps up behind him and smiles at her son. "He stole the kiss, in fact."_

 _"Excuse me, your royal highness!" Han spins towards his wife, hands thrown up in mock outrage, "you were perfectly willing -"_

 _You know this whole conversation is disgusting, right?" Ben interrupts, blocking his ears with his hands as he slips past his bantering parents. "If anyone needs me, I'll be beating Chewie at Dejarik again."_

 _"Hey, be careful. You know that Wookie doesn't like to lose!"_

 _"Only when he plays against you, dad." Ben retorts. "And only because you cheat too much."_

As the imagery fades from Rey's mind, she can feel the intensity of Kylo's sadness as if it's her own. Sharp and stinging and achingly deep. A small strangled sound escapes her as she turns away. She bites the inside of her mouth to stifle it until her eyes sting.

"Rey?"

It's _his_ pain. _His_ guilt. _His_ damn burden to carry. Slender fingers curl into fists as anger washes over her. Why is she the one ingesting _his_ emotions?

"Rey, look at me." Kylo moves to intercept, his fingers light at her jaw as he tilts her face towards him. His eyes widen in surprise as she raises her own. And it's only when his fingertips move to smudge away the wetness on her face that she understands why.

"You're crying," there is shock in his voice. "Why?"

"I'm not." She steels herself against the shiver that peels down her spine as his thumb makes another sweep across her cheek, and deepens her objection with a scowl. Is he even aware of how the bond bridged them in that moment? Of how she too shared his memory? "I'm just allergic to bad ideas. Which is exactly what your plan is."

"Uh-huh."

She meets Kylo's troubled expression with a sigh. _He_ _does know_.

"Fine. I just…" Hotness prickles behind her eyes. She squares her jaw. "I wish you could understand how lucky you were."

She prepares herself for the backlash as his eyes narrow. But he surprises her. "Why don't you show me?"

"What?"

"Open your mind. Form a memory of your own." He swallows hard, his jaw working as if testing the words. "Then allow me in - to share it."

For several seconds Rey stares, remembering the pain that seared her head when Kylo rifled through her mind upon Starkiller Base. Her first impulse is to repel the suggestion, to mock him for thinking her so gullible that she'd let him in willingly.

"It's not a trap, Rey," he says softly, sensing the direction of her thoughts, "you'll be in control. And you don't need to show me anything you wish to keep hidden."

She shakes her head. Repulsed by the idea. But the damn earnestness in his eyes catches her. She swallows the rebuke forming on her tongue. There is too much of her life she has no wish to share. Too much, she has no wish to relive. But, if it helps him to _see_. To understand…

Closing her eyes with a measure of reluctance, Rey scrunches her brow and tries to relax. To card through her memories until she finds one that might finally show him how lucky he was to have a family who cared. How fortunate he was to grow up surrounded by warmth and laughter.

"How do I let you in?" She murmurs, half under her breath.

"Relax the barriers you throw up every time I come near you," Kylo's voice is terribly gentle when he wants it to be, she notes absently. "Let me reach into you."

 _Don't be afraid, I feel it too._ His words slip into her mind like an echo.

Nodding, Rey relaxes her shoulders. Unstiffens her spine. Feels the tension ebb from her neck. In turn, with each deep steadying breath, she imagines her inner barriers growing thin. Dissolving. Kylo's presence, when she feels the connection open within her, is not a clenching fist, but a barely discernible caress.

 _"That's four rows of lines. I guess that must be at least a thousand days."_

 _Rey stares at the freshest line scratched upon the wall of her AT-AT and squeezes the ragged piece of metal in her hands until she feels the sharp bite of it against her skin._ _Outside, the winds scream. The fury of the X'us'R'iia causing even the massive structure of the walker to rock a little._

 _"It's okay, Dosmit," she says to the doll she's cobbled together from the scraps of alliance pilot uniform. Its eyes stare unblinking at her attempts to reassure it. "I'll keep you safe."_

 _But her words are tiny and hollow, even to her own ears. Her small doll offers the illusion of company when the night grows long, but gives no comfort against the biting cold. The ache of loneliness in her chest is equal to the ache of hunger in her stomach but she staves back the tears._ _She has to stay brave. For Dosmit. For herself. And for her parents. When they return._

 _Beyond the AT-AT, the winds sweep across the desert in malevolent fury. When its wrath finally passes, three more lines have been scratched upon the wall._

"I knew loneliness too." Kylo says quietly as the memory fades. "My parents may not have left me on a desert planet, but I grew up feeling abandoned by them, nonetheless."

Anger strikes through Rey at his words. Her effort has taught him nothing. "I can't believe you have the audacity to compare my situation to your own!"

"When will you stop using your own suffering as the bar by which you set anyone else's?" Kylo hisses, throwing his hands into the air as he spins away. "I understand the horror of your upbringing - I do. And I admire you for not letting it twist you into a monster. You're strong, Rey. Strong in ways I could _never_ be." Rey's eyes widen at his words, but he continues on.

"I'm sorry I disappoint you for being what I am. If I could swap childhoods with you, I would. Given it's clear I'd turn out a monster either way, at least _one_ of us could have a chance at happiness." Kylo's voice breaks on the words and he bites off the rage with a growl as he pushes himself to his feet, fists bunching at his sides as he turns towards the blast door.

"Ben, wait!" The name slips. Rey doesn't care. Springing after him, she snakes out a hand and grabs his shoulder, fingers pressing into taunt muscle as she stays him.

"Maybe it's time for you to let _me_ in."

"What?"

"You claim your parents didn't want you, but whenever I've caught a glimpse into your memories, I've seen the opposite," Rey holds his gaze, unflinching as his almond eyes narrow. "So, show me. Show me how bad your life truly was."

Kylo's expression is unreadable as he weighs her words in silence. And then his jaw clenches with a twist of determination, and he reaches out, laying his palm against her temple as he presses his will into her mind and -

 _"The kid lose his temper again, huh?"_

 _"Whatever could have given you that idea?"_ _The chink of glass dropping into the disposal follows Leia's sarcasm and muffles Han's reply._

 _Ben presses an ear to his bedroom door, desperate to know what his father thinks of him now. Even as he knows what he must think. What they_ all _think._ _He's bad. He's a monster. He -_

 _"He scares me, Han." Leia tries for a whisper but Ben hears; his every sense tuned to the conversation taking place in the room beyond his own. "The darkness in him is so strong, and I don't have the knowledge to help him. It seems like there's nothing I can do to prevent what he's becoming. Han, what are we to do with him?"_

 _Ben feels shame burn his cheeks at his mother's words. It's not his fault! He can't control this… Whatever it is inside him! And what does she ever do to help? She won't even talk about it with him. There's never time. She's never home..._

 _"How bout I take him with me on my next trip?" Han suggests it easily enough, but there's a hesitance to his words, Ben can tell. Though hope soars within him, despite his scepticism. "Some father-son time would do him good. And you know how he loves Chewie…"_

 _"And what happens when his next tantrum causes more than just a dinner plate to explode?" Leia protests, her voice tightening, "what happens when it's your_ ship _he's tearing apart?"_

 _"Yeah. I suppose you're right."_

 _Ben's shoulders sag in despair at how easily his father gives in. Just like he knew he would._

 _"So what do we do with the kiddo?" he continues, "keep him locked in his room forever?"_

 _"Sometimes I wish we could," his mother's tone is grim. Resentful. The banging of cupboard doors suggests she's putting together a meal to replace the one he sent flying in twenty directions around the room._

 _Ben sinks onto his bed. Curls into a ball. Presses his bunched fists to his ears and wishes for a way to make this horrible thing - this monster - within him go away. Maybe then, his parents would stop looking at him as if seeing someone else. Maybe then, they'd start spending more time -_

Kylo's presence withdraws from Rey with a snap.

Blinking hard, Rey meets his eyes in surprise before her gaze skitters away. Unable to bear the intensity. Or the bleak desperation drawn upon his face with the fineness of a calligrapher's hand.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs finally, drawing her eyes to him once more. If she wanted to, she could count the finest moles on his cheeks - except that she feels determined to hold eye contact. To not flinch from what he's chosen to lay bare for her.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Kylo's voice is hoarse. Tinged with apprehension as he drops his hand and steps back.

"For calling you a monster." It's only when the warmth of his body draws away that Rey realises how close they'd been. Sucking in a breath of bravado, she bunches his tunic into her hands, holding him in place. Refusing to let him retreat within himself, as she knows he surely will.

"Don't be sorry. It's true. It's always been true." Kylo's left eye twitches as his chin gives a barely discernible tremble. "My parents knew it long before anyone."

"Your fate is not set in stone," Rey argues, "whatever happened in the past… It doesn't have to be that way now."

Kylo is silent as he watches her.

Resolute, Rey raises one palm to cup his jaw, fingers trembling as they move to trace the scar across his cheek. So faint now, since she used the Force to heal him. "You've done monstrous things in the past, yes. But you're not that same person now. You're _not_ a monster."

Sensing the protest building within him, Rey draws him closer, lifting herself on her toes so that the warmth of his body encompasses her once more. "You're _not_. I know this is true. Or else I'd never be standing here, with you, were it not."

"With me?" he repeats, voice neutral. Though the question seems to hang in the air between them. A tangible thing.

Rey hesitates, desperate not to stamp out that fragile, guarded hope in his eyes but reluctant to make a promise she can't keep.

"That depends," she says finally, knowing where her next words are going to send him, but determined to say them anyway, "on who I'm talking to. Ben Solo or Kylo Ren?"

He pulls away then, muscles tensing beneath her palms. "There is no one or the other, Rey. I am who I am. If you can't understand that, we have nothing further to talk about."

He leaves her clasping thin air as he strides away. Just as she knew he would.

* * *

Rey gives him an hour to stew over his thoughts, before picking up the conversation again.

"I've thought about what you said, and you're right." Sinking to a seat at the Dejarik table, she waits for the brooding figure opposite her to stop pushing holographic characters across the board.

"Go on," he says finally, leaning back to coolly assess her.

"You are who you are. There is no one or the other. Right?" Rey lifts a brow, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

"Right." It's a reluctant admittance. And if he senses a trap, he's not wrong. But he's also too late.

"Excellent. So, shall I call you Ben Ren from now on, or Kylo Solo? Or perhaps Benlo Renso? What do you think?"

"I think you've lost your mind." he says slowly, switching off the game and folding his arms across his chest.

"Well, Ben Solo, Kylo Ren… There's no _one_ or the _other_ , right?" Rey grins, openly enjoying herself. "So I think it'll be easier for both of us if we just amalgamate your names. Saves any further confusion, don't you agree?"

"No." Resting his elbows on the table, the darksider sinks his head into his hands and mumbles into his palms, "I don't agree."

"Well, Ben it is then." Rey presses, "since it doesn't matter anyway."

"I'm going to lie down." Swinging out from behind the table, he crosses the room to the relief pilot bed. "Wake me when the shuttle arrives."

"That's still another standard day away."

"Yep."

"Well, goodnight, Ben."

Rey's not disappointed by the lack of reply as she powers up the hologame and begins a solo challenge.

She'll give him some time to adjust.

* * *

 **References:**

 **Jacen Solo** aka **Darth Caedu** was the son of Han and Leia in the Star Wars novels that are no longer regarded as canon since Disney took over things (but still worth a read!) Kylo Ren's character was strongly influenced by Jacen, and so I decided Jacen's Belt would be a fitting name for the asteroid field in which Kylo wants to stash the Falcon. Also, I thought it would be a cool throwback to the time his fam took refuge in the **Hoth Asteroid Field** where Han first kissed Leia.

 **Kylo's flashback scene** is inspired by The Last Jedi novelisation by Jason Fry where Kylo thinks upon a childhood memory of his parents talking about him as if he were a monster they were afraid of (in the scene where he was about to fire at the Raddus, but released the trigger.)


	15. Chapter 15

_Note: I threw together this rollercoaster of a chapter in part because I'd like to selfishly plug my new story, The Enemy. It's a Reylo fic inspired by a Clone Wars episode. "During an outer-rim skirmish, Kylo and Rey are captured by Trandoshan hunters and find themselves dumped upon a jungle planet. To escape the hunting ground, they have to work together..."_ _I've been quietly chipping away at the fic in and around other stories, and I've decided now that the first 5 chapters ready, I'll start posting it weekly. So if you need another in-universe enemies-to-friends/lovers fic to read... I hope you check it out. :)_

 _Oh, also... I'm not gonna try to cushion this fall: Chapter 15 is the culmination of 27 days of cabin fever. For me, not for Rey and Kylo. I'm sure you folk know where I'm coming from here, right? *Please understand where I'm coming from here...*_

* * *

 **Conversations**  
 **Part XV**

* * *

"How many stormtroopers do you think would defect from the First Order if given half a chance?"

The question catches Kylo as he steps into the cockpit, stopping him in mid-stride. He casts a quizzical glance at the back of Rey's head before taking in her nonchalant pose; feet propped against the control panel, hands tucked behind her head as she stretches out across the pilot seat…

From the thin central ceiling beam, the wink of his father's golden dice catches his attention. _Women!_ they seem to say, jingling in the non-existent breeze like a resigned shrug.

Shaking his head, Kylo slumps into the co-pilot seat. "Sometimes I think you try to rile me up on purpose. Just for a bite."

"Yeah, I do." Grinning, Rey swings her feet down and leans towards him. "But it's a valid question. Have you not wondered, yourself? Since Finn -"

"FN-2187's circumstance was unique."

"Why do you insist on calling him by a designation? He's human -"

"He's property," Kylo corrects, even as a part of him groans and wishes he could retract the words. "Rey, I really don't wish to have this conversation with you…"

"Do you really mean that?"

"Absolutely. I _really_ have no inclination whatsoever to talk about this right now. Or ever." He rubs his knuckles against his eyes. "Especially not when I've just woken."

"No, I mean, do you really believe Finn is _just property_?" Rey is relentless and Kylo realises with piercing regret that it's a subject close to her heart. "Is that honestly your feeling about the stormtroopers under your command? That they're all just… Property of the First Order? Because only a day ago you were trying to convince me the indoctrination of stormtroopers was a problem to you!"

"I never said that exactly..." Did he? Kylo shifts uncomfortably, bracing his hands against his seat as if preparing to launch out of it. "I'm sure what I meant is _cloning_ has always been far more efficient and humane than stealing children from villages and -"

The deepening of Rey's scowl cuts him off in mid-sentence. Evidently the cloning of stormtroopers is no more ethical to her than child abduction.

"Look," Kylo glances to the golden chance cubes once more. Unsurprisingly, they offer no advice. "I really don't know what you expect me to say but, by all means, please tell me."

The Jedi narrows her eyes as if his plea is a challenge she's all too eager to accept. "Ben, I just want you to -"

"Stop calling me -" As if a trigger has been pulled, Kylo jettisons from his seat and sidles past Rey. The circular corridor offers refuge if only he can edge his way over to it. "You know what? I don't think I need you to tell me what I should _think_ or _say_ , or who I should _be_ , after all."

"You're only saying that because you know I'm right," Rey starts, half-rising in her seat as she swings around. "You just can't handle facing the truth!"

"Look, Princess! Not everyone shares your version of the truth!"

The anger that explodes from Kylo is derived from a combination of exhaustion and guilt and the kind of frustration that aches in his loins and provokes a deep-seated sense of monastic shame whenever he's within Rey's vicinity. And in the instant the words roar from his mouth, he's reminded, like an echo through time, of every argument his awkward childhood ears overheard between his parents. It only serves to anger him further, and he slams his fist into the bulkhead before storming down the corridor, towards the main hold.

Refuge. With any luck.

* * *

Anger pours through Rey as the sound of Kylo's footfall fades. She feels it at her temples, pulsing in time to her heartbeat. Threading through her veins like a poison. Rapping tense fingers against the control panel, she watches in fascination as the fine hairs of her arms rise with static and, for a moment, she wonders what would happen if she were to stretch out her fingers and channel the anger into fine threads of energy...

And into what? The ship's control panel? Or perhaps its transparisteel viewport? _Fool_ , Rey chastises herself. _Ridiculous fool._

Sucking deep gulps of air into tightening lungs, she forces her fingers into tightly furled fists. The action serves as a dampener. Clamping back those sparking threads of energy before they find their outlet.

It's the cabin fever, Rey thinks, sinking shakily back into the headrest. It's the culmination of days spent in isolation with a spoiled, entitled man-child whose endless reveals of soft edges and sharp planes constantly infuriate her. Like the playful innuendos that mean nothing and the gossamer smiles that mean more than the sum of all stars. And the outbursts of scathing anger that scare her - not because she fears for herself, but because she fears for him. For what dark and ugly thing he'll one day twist himself into if he doesn't see his guilt and self-hatred for what it is, and lay it to rest.

It takes Rey several minutes to breathe through the anger and absolute blanket frustration that fizzes beneath her skin. To talk herself down from a precipice where on one side she feels like she's making a genuine connection with Leia's fallen son, and on the other… She's merely fooling herself by creating a persona for someone who doesn't exist and screaming into a void while doing so. And for what? Clearly, there's no sense in trying to turn _Kylo Ren_ from the Darkside; he's made it _abundantly_ clear that the darkness is exactly where he wants to be.

In that moment a small quiet part of herself wonders, what if Kylo really is right? Not about the stormtroopers - this isn't about the stormtroopers - but about her insistence that he should ascend to some bright, shining pedestal? That he should rise to meet her checklist of wholesome ideals that she's cobbled together from lost childhood wishes and self-taught fantasies of what the perfect paragon should behave like?

What is it about him that makes her unable to let that fiction go?

Leaning forward, Rey presses her forehead into the crook of her arm and groans towards the floor. Kylo is who he is. He's tried to tell her that himself, enough times already. She's fooling herself - utterly fooling herself - to expect anything else.

"You're right." A footfall behind her causes her to jerk upright sharply as the very object of her frustration reenters the cockpit and throws himself back into the co-pilot seat.

"Huh?" Rey blinks, uncomprehending.

"You're right. About the stormtroopers."

"Are you for real right now?"

"Of course." He stares, defying her to challenge him. She holds her tongue and waits for him to take care of that himself. "Okay, no. Well, maybe…"

At her huff of exasperation, he holds up a placating hand. "Look. I've never given stormtroopers much thought. Any thought, for that matter. They're just…"

"Kylo," Rey interrupts sharply, and pauses as he startles for a moment, "this isn't about stormtroopers."

"No." He agrees, shoulders slumping. Blinking away from her gaze, his expression turns pensive as he tilts his head towards the cockpit's ceiling beam. "It isn't."

Rey's mind draws a blank as she considers how to fill this sudden strange awkward silence. She watches Kylo from the corner of her eye as he runs his hands through his hair in a gesture that seems somehow explicitly nervous.

"It's just…" He leaps to his feet then, causing Rey to flinch back in both confusion and alarm as he paces the confined cockpit. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth... As if the momentum might help him to release his words. "It's just… When you talk about the traitor -"

" _Finn_."

"Yes, that one," he waves an impatient hand, "when you talk about… _him…_ "

Kylo's words fall away as Rey feels the broil of his emotions. Turbulent. Like a gathering storm. Or static dancing across her skin. In a flash of inspiration, his predicament is crystal clear to her. All that talk of defecting from the First Order…

"You're jealous of Finn."

" _What_?" It's more of a pitched, strangled noise than an actual word, and he scowls as he presses his lips into a determined line - as if to stop any such girlish squeak from escaping again. "No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are."

"No. That's a ridiculous suggestion." The irrepressible eye tic betrays Kylo's perfectly deadpan voice. He freezes in his pacing, rocking on his heel as if caught in a tractor beam.

"You are!" Rey pushes herself from her seat and punctuates each word with a finger jab to Kylo's chest. "You're jealous of Finn, and you just haven't figured it out yet!"

"What could I possibly be jeal-" He winces, catching her stabby finger and stilling it in his palm. "What could that turncoat possibly have that I would want?"

"I could think of several things, actually," Rey challenges, "you need only consider one."

"Y-you?" Kylo's voice cracks on that singular word. He sucks in a quick breath as if he could only snatch it from the air again.

"Me?" She jerks back, genuinely bewildered. "No, I was going to say _freedom_."

In the silence that swan dives between them, the weight of Kylo's one misspoken word settles on Rey's shoulders. "Wait, why would you say _me_?"

"No," he shakes his head vehemently, quickly releasing Rey's hand from his own. "I didn't say you."

"Yes," she nods with equal vigor, stepping forward and forcing him back like a predator baling up its prey, "that's definitely what I heard you say."

"No, I didn't."

"You did."

Heat races to Rey's cheeks as she considers the implication. The cockpit is silent but for their sharp shallow breaths. Kylo watches her; expression pained, eyes blown wide and borderline pleading. As if this turn in conversation has flayed him open, exposing insides that are not quite ready for such abrupt display. Biting her lip, Rey casts her gaze away, unable to bear it herself.

"You're right, maybe you didn't," she says with sudden decisiveness; pivoting away towards the corridor and leaving Kylo floored and flushing in her wake.

The echo of Rey's words stay with him after her footsteps fade.

.*.

"Maybe I did," he whispers. But she doesn't hear him.

And it's probably just as well.

His father's gold-plated dice catch his eye, glinting in camaraderie. _I've been there before, kid_. He sighs and unthreads them from the narrow durasteel beam, cradling the cool cubes in his palm with nostalgic reverence before slipping them into his pocket.

* * *

"The shuttle will be here soon."

Rey startles, swearing as she catches her fingers in the closing lid of the cargo box. Sliding it back into place, she snatches up a bundle of black cloth and presents Kylo with a hollow smile as she turns; his sudden presence in the cargo bay reminding her that time alone with her thoughts has done nothing to calm the nervous churning of her stomach. "Uh-huh."

"Rey, about before -"

"To be fair, my first guess was going to be _friendship_ \- which is another thing Finn has that you don't." She winces at the same time Kylo does, realising the words have come across harsher than intended.

"Rey…" Kylo steps closer, jaw working in that habitual way that it does when he pre-chews his words.

"You're jealous of my friendship with Finn. That's what I meant to say. That's what I was _meaning_." Rey steps back, removing herself from what is quickly becoming a too-intimate space. "And that's what you were meaning too, right?"

Kylo stares at her. And then closes his eyes. "Okay. Sure."

Nodding, Rey ignores the disappointment that settles in the pit of her stomach. "Great"

"Great." He repeats, opening his eyes to shift his gaze with detached curiosity to the half-ransacked jumble of First Order cargo boxes beyond her. "Well, I just came to tell you the shuttle's nearly here," his eyes drift to the black fabric in her arms, "so prepare anything you plan on bringing aboard."

"Wait!" On impulse, Rey steps forward and stops herself short of reaching for him. "You're actually serious about leaving behind the _Falcon_? You know this ship is the fastest -"

"This floating palace of space junk has a list of problems as long as a rancor's arm. We can't rely on it. Not for where we're going. I thought we'd agreed to this." Kylo finishes tersely. His brown eyes follow as she begins to pace the cargo bay. "Are you alright?"

"You suggested it, yes." Rey snaps, ignoring his query. "I never _agreed_."

"You never _disagreed_ either!" Scrubbing a hand over his face, Kylo hisses through his fingers, "look, we've got an hour -"

"What if Hux sent troopers with the shuttle?"

"What?" His voice is strained as he raises his head. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe to ensure that…" Rey's words taper off uselessly. In truth, she has no idea where she's going with this. She only knows that Kylo is asking her to leave the closest thing she has to a _home_ in favour of a First Order ship, and she has no idea how to deal with that in her own head let alone communicate her fears to him. "I don't know."

"You're worrying needlessly."

"I know."

"You're going to wear a hole into the floor."

"I know."

"There's little more than engine tape holding it together as it is."

Rey stops at the note of genuine concern in Kylo's voice. A smile breaks through the tense line of her mouth. "I know."

His face softens into an answering smile. He looks tired, she notes. In that moment, she feels ashamed at the way arguments fall so easily from her tongue.

"Just finish up what you're doing," he says finally, his voice oddly sympathetic. "I'll see you on deck soon."

"I'll be ready." Rey forces the words as he turns away. She stares down at the black fabric crumpled in her fists.

It feels like a betrayal to abandon this comfortable old ship - Han's ship - in favour of something sleek and shiny and stinking of the First Order. How can she trust Kylo to keep his word and return her to the Falcon? How can she trust someone groomed to serve the Darkside?

How can she trust.

Rey doesn't make it to the main hold before the shuttle arrives. But she does spend the hour pacing the cargo bay with a nervous intensity that has even the supply boxes rattling. It's not in her nature to feel so disempowered. Fear has always made her braver. Stronger. But _this_ fear - this fear is different. This fear is borne of so many unresolved _things_. And it's a fear that is only half her own. The other half, she suspects, consists of Kylo's own private uncertainties.

The invisible thread that binds them is a curse in more ways than one.

The _Falcon_ gives a small jolt as Kylo's shuttle connects to the docking ring and Rey waits, ears straining for any sound to indicate a dozen stormtroopers may be preparing to descend upon her.

She knows Kylo's droid will attempt external repairs so that the Falcon will be ready to fly again when they return for it, but still a sliver of doubt harries her. Even when the lights flicker and return to full power, and she hears the sublight engines fire up again, the relief is still only half as palpable as it should be. It's only when the mechanical whirl of a droid rolls down the corridor towards her accompanied by the footfall of just a _single_ pair of boots, that she relaxes her grip on the blaster Han gifted her.

Kylo stares in quiet surprise when he enters the cargo bay. "Are you hiding?"

"No." She lies.

"Yes. You are." He moves closer, his expression carefully neutral. "You thought I was going to allow an army aboard to arrest you."

"Not at all." Rey winces. The lie sounds weak. Even to her own ears.

"And what are you…" Kylo bites his lip as he assesses her with a critical eye. "What are you wearing?"

The blush that threatens the back of Rey's neck rises fully to her cheeks as she glances down at the FIrst Order uniform she found within a cargo box. "A backup plan."

"Right _._ " Kylo's dark eyes shift over the high-necked double-breasted flare coat. The style is not First Order issue, but he recognises the charcoal gaberwool as a textile favoured by Hux; though the dramatic trumpet sleeves raise a brow. The scavenger has clinched the oversized coat at the waist with a belt that, upon closer inspection, appears made of twisted cables. "Innovative," he murmurs, before dropping his gaze to the form-fitting breeches and black knee-high boots. A feminine outfit, he notes curiously. And wonders who Hux had it commissioned for.

"Was it your back up plan to model couture for General Hux?" he asks finally, clearing his throat against his knuckles to smother a chuckle.

"What?" Rey glances down at her attire. "I thought this was some kind of officer uniform, or something? It was in a box stamped with First Order insignia," she adds defensively.

"Well, you're right about the _something_ ," Kylo's mouth twitches into a smile as he reaches out to pinch a flamboyant sleeve between thumb and forefinger. "That's not to say it doesn't look good on you, but for future reference, you might want to wear Shira Ren's outfit if you wish to look like you're accompanying me."

"Oh?" There's a tension to Rey's voice that she struggles to quell. "Did you travel with her often?"

Kylo's eyes flicker to hold her own. "Would my answer matter to you?"

Rey's gaze slides past Kylo's face, to the corridor beyond him. Her tone is sharp and clipped, "of course not."

"Of course not," he repeats, a soft sigh escaping him. "Rey, why won't you trust me?"

The question draws Rey's attention back to him. "Kylo, we're on two opposite sides of a war. You've already communicated with the First Order at least once behind my back and now - after the Falcon has been _conveniently_ decommissioned - you're asking me to board an enemy ship out of _blind trust?_ " She pauses, breathless. "Please excuse me while I take my time with that one."

"You're quite right." Kylo says in a measured tone, his voice oddly calm. "Take all the time you need. In the meantime, _here's your droid_."

He walks out then. Leaving her alone with half a dozen plundered boxes and a black BB-unit that seems to be working hard at sending her as much of an evil glare as a generic droid can muster.

Oh, and there's one more thing he leaves in his wake. A niggling feeling that she's yet again gone and broken something - just as the glue holding it together had finally begun to set.

* * *

 _ **End note:** Is the angst and the arguments getting a bit much for anyone? If so, I'm truly sorry. It just keeps happening. Would you believe my first draft of this chapter was all light and fluffy? It just didn't feel right. Or ready. So... I threw all the words into a blender, strapped them into a rollercoaster and... This was the end result._

 _In case anyone's forgotten (because it feels so long ago), the reason for the First Order boxes being onboard the Falcon was covered back in Chapter 11 when Rey remarked on how easy their supply transports are to hit. Don't ask why they weren't unloaded before she set off on this journey... *cough* details details..._

 _The inspiration for the new outfit Rey is currently sporting comes from... Eh, a link FFNET won't let me publish. Don't worry, she won't be keeping it. Her usual scavenger!Jedi attire is just um… In the wash._

 _Lastly, please stop by and check out my new fic The Enemy if you get a chance! (Sorry to plug that again. :p)_


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N:** Eh, so I'm jumping between present and past-tense in the first part of this chapter, as I switch from where they're at now, to reflecting on Rey's realisations following the last chapter, and back to where they're at now again. I hope it's not as confusing for you as it has been for me. (So what I'm saying is, good luck.)_

 _Also, there's Force Bond UST ahead._ Finally _, I hear ya'll collectively say..._

* * *

 **Conversations**  
 **Chapter 16**

* * *

With the Falcon still impaired despite BB-9E's efforts, Rey stiffly agrees to Kylo's plan to tow the freighter to the nearby asteroid field known as Jacen's Belt and "stash it" for safe-keeping. It's a technique similar to what his father employed on more than one occasion during his life as a smuggler, and Rey finds it quietly interesting that some of Han's roguish habits have taken influence upon his son.

Though she _definitely_ won't say that aloud.

Kylo is eager to reprise control of his own ship, in a way that makes Rey mourn the fragile camaraderie they had - temporarily at least - created upon the Falcon. Perhaps it had been foolish to hope something of the old freighter's nostalgic charm would wear through his facade. That the memories of his father would reveal to him who he was truly meant to be.

No. _She_ was the blind one; unwilling to see what he'd tried to show her again and again and again. Ben Solo was never some trapped boy in need of rescuing from a monster's prison. Kylo Ren and Ben Solo had become intangible for too long for one to be separated from the other. It was a truth Rey had awakened to only on the heels of their last argument.

Still, as they now travel to Jacen's Belt in separate crafts like two children in need of time apart, Rey knows that no matter how much she grills herself over her shortcomings, she _will_ make these mistakes again. She will try, again, to turn Kylo from a dark path she knows he need not tread upon.

With that small level of self-awareness in mind, Rey chooses to remain aboard the Falcon for their journey to the asteroid field. Her decision further cemented by a deep-seated distrust in the First Order droid's ability to look after the old freighter without maliciously setting it alight.

Kylo's "gift" of the BB-9E unit is a reference to the joke they'd shared over Han's ill-planned wedding gift for Leia, but as Rey busies herself in the cargo bay preparing the supplies they'll take aboard the shuttle, she finds the ominous presence of the black First Order droid to be unsettling. To say the least.

"Your droid doesn't like me," she mutters aloud when she feels the familiar tug of space and time around her. "And, we really need to arrange a time for these communications. You can't just drop in on me whenever it suits you. What if I were -"

She turns, words failing her as her eyes fall upon Kylo wearing little more than a sleet grey towel around his waist. His hair is wet and plastered to his face so that his ears poke through the ebony strands. The wet Loth-cat look would be enduring, were Rey not mortified by the way her gaze follows those last droplets of water off the ends of his hair to the lazy path they track down his chest.

"Before you say anything," Kylo begins, seemingly oblivious to her gaze as he holds up his hands in entreat, "I'm not the one who opened this line."

"Hands back on the towel!" Embarrassed by the surging heat that floods her cheeks and reaches deep into her belly, Rey turns away; as much to hide her blush as to hide from all that bare, contoured skin. _Holy mother of meteors..._ "I'm beginning to think you do this on purpose."

Kylo snorts, his voice drawing closer, "I was going to say the same thing to you."

In truth, a hundred feet of space and durasteel separate them, yet somehow she feels they share the same breath. Rey swallows hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Retrieving my clothing." He moves around her to pick up something from a surface she can't see. "Unless you'd prefer I remain in the towel?"

"Right. Yes, of course. I mean, no," fumbling, she tries again to right herself, "I mean, _please_ get dressed."

Back turned, Rey exhales slowly and tries to ignore the sounds of fabric sliding across damp skin. "As I was saying, your droid doesn't like me."

"Why ever would that be?"

Rey bristles at his tone. It's _too_ deadpan. "Mock me all you like, but if that tin can doesn't stop sending me death threats I'm going to dismant-"

"The droid... is sending death threats."

"Well, no. Not literally," Rey turns, relieved in that instant that Kylo's pants are on at least, "I mean, visual death threats."

"Visual death threats."

"Yes! The kind that imply it wants to tazer my face in my sleep. Until I die," she adds lamely, holding her eyes steady on his face. _On his face._

"The droid looks at you… in a way that implies it wishes to murder you."

"Uh-huh." Rey replays her words inside her head to try and understand what he isn't getting, and winces. "It sounds crazy, doesn't it?"

"To be honest I'm just trying to visualise what kind of _expression_ a droid might pull…. while plotting murder."

"You're _laughing_ at me, aren't you?"

"No, not at all."

 _"Yes you are!"_

"Yes, I am."

"You're such a…" Rey stops herself. "Fine. It sounds crazy. But you'll believe me when you see me next and my face is _on fire_!"

"It already is. You've been blushing for the past five minutes." Kylo steps in closer then, startling her as he draws a hand towards her; stopping short of alighting his fingertips to her cheek.

"Don't worry," he says lightly, glancing to her lips before meeting her eyes again, "I'm not even here, remember?"

Kylo may not be physically in the Millennium Falcon's cargo bay, but as Rey's eyes move to map the galaxy of fine moles upon his face, she's wordlessly aware of how _close_ he is. She's aware of the breath that hitches in his throat as he watches her with eyes blown wide. Aware, most of all, of how they can be at their bravest around each other when they're apart.

A frown pinches Kylo's brow and she wonders if he's caught wind of her thoughts. Rocking on her heel, she moves to step away. His thumb grazes upon her cheek, stilling her. She startles at the live-wire shock of the Force bond contact.

"Kylo… " Closing her eyes against a rolling shiver, Rey sucks in a gasp as Kylo's fingertips trace her jawline with such delicate hesitance, it's as if her skin is a manuscript that might turn to dust beneath his touch.

She rocks on her heel, leaning into the touch before she can catch herself. Everything about him is so _present_. The ghost of his breath across her cheek. The galloping heartbeat she swears she can hear within his chest… When she lifts her gaze, his brown eyes are like twin pools of aching _want_. And when she reaches out through the Force to brush the surface of his mind, she feels his conflict as her own. The trepidation. The yearning. The hopelessness. The hope...

"Let me go." The words are strained, but Rey holds them fast; her protest a rope she must cling to, to stop herself from drowning.

"I'm not holding you." Kylo breathes, his fingers absently trailing below her jaw, tracing the peek of skin above the high-collared buttons at her throat in a way that blazes a heated trail right through to her stomach. He holds her gaze with an expression caught between fear and need and absolute determination, and she wonders at how conflicted he can be - and how bold he is, when they don't share the same space.

"You know what I mean. We can't do this." Unrelenting, Rey channels her thoughts into recapping their every confrontation, determined to remind him that while they stand on opposite sides of the war, they can never -

"No. I think we can." Kylo's voice is even, but she feels the tremors of his insecurity like threads pulled taut to snapping point. He waits, she realises, for another rejection. But he holds his hand out to her, anyway.

"Kylo, I do want..." She stops herself, catching the fingers that work to drag goosebumps across her throat and holding them firm in her own. "It wouldn't be right..."

"You only say that because you're afraid." Relaxing his fingers in her hand, he begins to pull away. "You only argue with me - about anything - because you're afraid. I _get_ that now -"

An angry whirl from behind Rey precedes a sudden outpouring of angry beeps. Pain blooms in the back of one leg as something slams into her, jolting her forward. _Through_ Kylo.

"What the frack!" Spinning, she finds the stout black BB-unit standing in her place, arc welder at the ready.

There's really no mistaking the death glare this time.

"See!" She calls out, spinning on her heel.

But Kylo has gone.

* * *

Within the compact area of his quarters, Kylo rocks backward from the imagined impact of the droid's collision. In an instant, the Force bond is severed and he is left alone, staring with balled fists of frustration at the empty space where Rey had been.

 _That damned droid._

He breathes deep, seeking to focus himself. Perhaps he can reopen the bond, to check that she's okay; that the astromech hasn't in fact fried her face off. It's a weak excuse. And in truth, he could dock his shuttle to the freighter and physically check on her if his concerns for her welfare held any real weight.

Somehow though, it's easier to face Rey when he doesn't have to _actually_ face Rey. It's easier to reach for her when the space between them is wider than it seems. As if maybe her rejection won't stab him quite so much if there's enough distance between them to slow the thrust.

It's cold comfort, of course. He could see the dismissal forming in the draw of her brow even if she didn't quite know it herself. That rebuff was never going to hurt any less.

Snatching up his long-sleeved undershirt, Kylo presses the black fabric to his face and yells a string of expletives into the soft knit before pulling it over his head. He'll leave Rey to work things out with the droid for herself.

She'd just as likely refuse his help with that, too.

* * *

The next time the Force brings them together, Rey is sitting at the Dejarik table, staring blankly at the holographic figures that wait upon the board for her turn. Kylo knows this because he can see the blurred lines of the game and the contours of the surrounding furniture.

"Well, that's interesting.." Kylo steps around her, " I can see your surroundings. Not clearly... Just the edges."

Rey fidgets, plucking at the ridiculous sleeves of Hux's couture jacket. If not for the way she stiffens at his presence, he'd think their Force link has suddenly turned into a one-way hyperlane. "Did you hear what I just said?"

The question stirs her at last, although her eyes skitter away as soon as she casts a glance at him. "Uh-huh. You can see my surroundings. That's going to be a problem when I return to the Resistance."

"Don't return to the Resistance," he shrugs, seating himself opposite her - that being the edge of his bunk, for him.

"Don't return to the First Order," she returns coolly, her full gaze upon him at last.

Inwardly, Kylo groans. He knows that tone. And he knows _that_ look. She's in full-scale damage control - controlling the damage done to the defense shields he dared to breach. It's ironic, he thinks, given how often she accuses him of being the one to put up a facade.

Chewing his lip, Kylo mulls over the best way to course-correct. Pretending that whatever happened between them earlier never happened usually does the trick. "Where's the BB-unit?"

"I thought you just said you can see my surroundings?" Rey moves to switch off the game and leans back in her seat. Arms folded as she stares him down.

"I can. It's not in here." Kylo's eyes dip to study her, noting with curiosity that the buttons that fix the high collar at her throat have been cut loose. The newly exposed hollow of her throat causes his pulse to jump and he shifts uncomfortably as he tries to remember what they're talking about.

A distant series of angry chirps serve as a reminder, drawing his attention towards where he knows the Falcon's cargo bay corridor to be. "Rey… What have you done to the droid?"

"I've locked it in a box," she raises a brow as if announcing a challenge. "You can have it back once I figure out how to reprogram it - or I've dismantled it."

"I feel like deactivation would be far less intrusive, " he begins lightly.

"And I feel venting it through the garbage chute would be better yet," she counters, "that thing is clearly possessed."

"So it's possessed now?" he laughs, relieved to see Rey's own expression lighten. If just for a moment.

"No, of course not. But someone's reprogrammed it, " leaning forward, Rey drops her voice to a whisper as if the droid might hear her from its prison. "Someone in the First Order knows we're together," she fumbles, eyes widening at her insinuation, "I mean, that we're _traveling_ together."

"BB-9E bumped into you, Rey. That's hardly an attempt on your life. If anything, it's probably just working through some jealousy."

"Jealousy? " Rey snorts, "what could that tin can possibly be jealous of?"

Kylo gives her a long look. "Your mechanical know-how, obviously. Perhaps you should try befriending it. Since you're so good at that."

"Actually, I am!" she begins heatedly, "I get along well with most peop-"

"Uh-huh. Sure." Cutting her off with a wave of his hand, Kylo realises he really is beginning to understand why she creates reasons to argue with him every time they start to draw close. She's afraid. Not of him, but of intimacy. He recognises that fear in her just as much as he recognises it in himself. The difference between them is, he knows the solution. He just needs Rey to figure it out too. And maybe absence will be the best way for that to happen.

"I think it's best if we keep our distance until we reach the asteroid belt." He turns his head to one side, hoping to hide the damn eye tic he can feel betraying him. "So if the Force bridges us again, we'll practice something we should have been doing all along."

"And what would that be?" Rey's voice is small. Confused.

"Shutting it down." He sucks in a determined breath before adding, "here, I'll go first."

"Wait, Kylo -"

Rey's response goes unfinished as Kylo closes his eyes, envisions the invisible thread that binds them, and snaps it off. He feels the strange bridge between them close as if a giant withheld breath has been released, and when he opens his eyes to find Rey gone, he lies back upon his bunk in relief.

The scavenger has been getting to his head far more than she should. A part of him wishes he could keep the damned thread severed permanently.

* * *

Something sinks through Rey's stomach as Kylo disappears with an inward rush of air and sound. She has no name for it - at least, nothing she wishes to recognise, but as she leans back in her seat, deflated and slouching, it worms its way into her head anyway. _Loneliness. Abandonment. Loss._

Turns out there's more than one name for it.

 _Shut it down,_ her mind urges, repeating Kylo's last words as she twists her fingers anxiously into her stupid sleeves. Frustrated, she crosses into the crew cabin and pulls out the bundled up parcel of her belongings from beneath her bunk; the rucksack and arm wraps and assortment of clothing that has made up who she is for so many years. They stink of sweat and are crusted with layers of dirt and Jakku sand, but she can't bear the borrowed First Order clothing any longer.

Holding up her dark grey tunic, Rey runs a critical eye over the recent bloodstains before wrinkling her nose at its metallic smell and throwing it to one side. Sinking back on her heels, she presses her lips together in thought before rummaging through her rucksack for a knife. Then, holding taunt one of the ridiculous flared sleeves of the gaberwool jacket, she begins sawing it off at the shoulder seam before moving to the next. With her arms now bare, she winds the old wraps back in place.

Dirty and threadbare they may be, but with so much of her life entangled with Kylo's own - so much of their thoughts and feelings imprinted upon each other in ways so subtle she cannot yet truly comprehend what it all means… The least she can do is try to keep a part of herself in its rightful place.

Down the corridor, the BB-9E unit continues to whistle and screech its protests at being locked in a box. Rey's hand rests on her staff before sliding to clasp Han's blaster. Maybe Kylo's right. Maybe she should try befriending the First Order astromech. And if that fails, she'll vent the damn thing.

* * *

Releasing the BB-unit from the box was Rey's first mistake. Trying to befriend it was her second.

As it charges towards her like a rampaging luggabeast, the Force-thrust she uses to throw it back only acts as a mild deterrent. The droid is _outraged_. And it won't have a bar of anything she tries to say.

"I'm going to kill Kylo for this," she mutters, shoving a freight crate into its path as it makes a renewed attempt to mow her down.

The idle threat proves to be the worst thing Rey could say. With a final squeal of anger, the droid flips open a circular tool bay, extends a small cylinder, and shoots it towards Rey before she can think to counter it. The cylinder bursts open at her feet with a swathe of hazy gas.

Stumbling back, Rey throws a hand over her mouth. "What the -"

But the words go unfinished as she hits the floor.

* * *

The next time Rey wakes, Kylo is lifting her from the floor, his grip firm but gentle as he gathers her up. She works her mouth to try and speak, but the words seem to loll around her mouth in the same way her head does as he cradles her to him.

"It's a nerve gas." She hears him say. "Just relax. You won't be able to move for a while."

 _I told you your droid was trying to kill me,_ she thinks sluggishly. And then everything slips away.

* * *

 _ **Chapter Endnote:** This was supposed to be written in time for posting alongside Chapter 2 of Enemy, but... The kids reminded me that we're now in May, so I decided to hold off and post it as a May the 4th celebration. Yay._

 _I hope you made it through the cheesy mills n boon I wrote into this chapter. Alongside all that miscommunication feelings and so on that I seem to enjoy writing so much. And I umm... I purposely tried to end it on a sweet note. Please feel free to comment if you liked or didn't like this latest installment - your feedback feeds my muse! :)_


	17. Chapter 17

It's the gentle sweep of fingertips across her brow that wakes Rey. Once her mind becomes aware of it, she flinches from the unexpected touch; her body bracing. The fingers hesitate on the apex of her forehead, pausing as if waiting for a strike. She holds still, barely daring to breathe, until finally, with a quiver to their previous confidence, the fingertip resumes their stroke. Rey suspects they've been passing a figure-of-eight over her brow for some time.

For a short while, she allows herself to sink into the soft feather-like caress of warm skin against her own. The comfort of being _cared for_. She knows that as soon as she opens her eyes, it will end. As it's ending now - she already feels the complacency slip away as her mind turns to ask herself _how._ And _why?_

With eyes still closed, she knows she lies on a bunk that is not her own. She knows this because the mattress is too firm. Unlike her bed on the Falcon -which dips in the middle from decades of cushioning the bodies of those heavier than her own. Moreso, the thin pillow beneath her head is new. It's crisp, chemical scent transports her to a near-forgotten memory of the time she found a cargo crate of military bedding buried deep within the armour-clad underbelly of a star destroyer. It's contents so perfectly preserved, the items within still carried the sharp chemical tang of the process that made them. She remembers how the clean, neatly-pressed sheets felt like a luxury - a gift made for her unwrapping - amidst the sand and dust and slow decay of her surroundings.

It's this visceral memory that jolts Rey into full awakening. Her scalp prickles with rising apprehension. Her voice hones to a razor's edge as she demands, " _why_ am I on your ship."

The touch upon her brow draws away. A part of her mourns its loss and longs to draw it back, even as she snaps open her eyes to meet the infallible gaze of Kylo Ren. He perches on the edge of the bunk, his body angled towards her. It's an awkward position - as if he was compelled to remain near her, even at his own discomfort.

They stare in silence, and she can see from the set of his face that he is now the one who braces for impact.

"Kylo, what have you done?"

She's angry. This is _not_ how she wanted to begin this. Not after his touch upon her brow caused such delicious warmth to pool in her belly - like the contentment that comes of feeling full after being starved for so long. She wanted to say, _don't stop._ She wanted to say, _more - please more._ She did not want to say the five words that translated into _what terrible thing has transpired to put me on your ship when I told you 'not yet'?_

"The droid tried to kill you." The inscrutable veneer is ruined by something else that flitters across Kylo's face; the unexpectedly bashful tug of a half-smile as he sheepishly admits, "I guess you were right."

"Ah," she says after a beat; eyes grazing his face to search for a sign of a lie. A sliver of memory comes to her; of the gas that filled her lungs and knocked her out cold. The anger within declines. "I guess I was."

The hand that was removed from her forehead and sent into his lap now flutters slightly, as if it wishes to reach for her again. The motion sends a pang of regret into her belly. She doesn't want to ask her next question, but she has to.

"So where is it now?"

The look on his face tells her she's not going to like the answer.

* * *

"Rey, you have to understand, I had no choice. You've been unconscious for sixteen hours!"

Kylo trails after her as she leaps from the bed and steers herself towards the cockpit of his shuttle. The layout is simple, and she finds it with ease; sliding into the pilot seat as her eyes roam the control panel, trying to make sense of what lies before her.

"What are you trying to do?" He drops to one knee beside her. Humbling himself. He doesn't care. This woman's mind is awash with such fury, he can feel it through the Force, stirring the hairs of his arms like static. It's a fury not unlike the kind he has all but trademarked for himself, and it takes him by surprise. He half expects her to start breaking things. To tear apart his ship with the power of it. "Tell me, so I can help."

"Help?" Rey turns to him, eyes blazing, " _now_ you want to help?" For several seconds she holds his gaze and he can see the maelstrom within her; how she fights to control it. One thing he himself has never mastered. "Y _ou scuttled my ship!_ "

"Rey, I didn't scuttle the Falcon." Speaking with more calm than he feels, Kylo lays a hand over the top of her own; stilling her as she roves the controls in search of a button or lever to fulfil whatever it is she's trying to achieve. "I did exactly what we talked of doing - I hid it in the asteroid field. With BB-9E's help. It'll be perfectly safe until we return. I _promise_."

He can see her considering his words and he takes the risk of reaching through the Force - to impress upon her his sincerity. Eyes narrowing at his intrusion, she slams the bond shut and wrenches her hand out from under his so that his palm drops to the cold durasteel panel.

"You're still afraid of me." Kylo sinks back on his haunches. "After all this…"

"Why does this feel so convenient?" There's a catch to Rey's voice; a fine tremble that startles him even more than her wrath. "Your droid knocks me out long enough for you to hide the Falcon without my assistance, and now I'll never be able to find it without you. You've trapped me, Kylo. You've...bound me to you without my consent! You've taken away my autonomy…"

"I only did what I thought was best..."

"When has that _ever_ been true!"

The words slam into him like a sucker punch. He reels back, nursing a wound that only exists inside his heart. "That's not fair," he begins. But it's not an argument he can maintain if he's honest with himself. "Okay. Maybe it is a little. But we've lost enough time already, and if we don't get the damn Holocron soon..."

He stops himself as her words sink in. "I can show you where the Falcon is on a chart. I had the droid map its location. You can send the co-ordinates to- " the name sticks on his tongue. He works it against the roof of his mouth to dislodge it, "Finn."

The effort is almost his undoing. He sinks into the copilot seat with a huff of resignation and stares at the ribbon of stars streaming beyond the transparisteel viewport. From the corner of his eye, he sees her face soften. He draws in a slow breath. "Please, Rey. Arguing with you is like arguing with myself in a mirror. Neither of us will ever win. Can't we just…"

"Call a ceasefire?" Rey finishes quietly.

"Yeah." Relief surges through him. The held breath is released. "Maybe give it half an hour before the next round?"

Without answering, Rey swings her seat ( _her_ seat now?) to assess the control panel before her. The vibrations that surround them have calmed. He marvels at how she can dissipate her rage so easily. Now a new expression alights her face. One that sucker punches him in a different way.

"Will you teach me how to fly this thing?"

* * *

An hour later and their ceasefire still holds. The Upsilon-class Command Shuttle may be an enemy ship, but Rey is hungry to learn all she can of the tech that's far more advanced than anything she's experienced on the Falcon or the flight sims she trained with, or any vessel within the Resistance's fleet.

As Kylo scrolls through screens that brim with military-grade information; walking her through the extensive upgrades of the nav computer and sensor suites, it's not long before she's eagerly quizzing him on the rest of the advancements his shuttle has to offer - from landing gear to shield arrays, sensor jammers to comm scanners, to the complexity of the swoop wing design.

"I'm going to have to keep you now, so you don't spill these secrets to the Resistance," Kylo jokes, once she's finished picking his brain for everything he can tell her off the top of his head.

Rey stiffens. The silence that falls between them is like a vacuum, sucking even the background hum of the sublight engines into oblivion.

"I hope you know I was joking," he says quietly.

Pulling her hands back from where they rest far too close to Kylo's own, Rey takes an involuntary step back. And then another. She knows he was only joking - _she knows_. But this knowledge doesn't stop her heart from picking up speed; beating like moth wings inside her chest. Because little does he know how these worries plague her. Etching at her conscience like a tally upon a wall; a daily reminder that the time will come when a line in the ground will need to be drawn, and they will be standing on opposite sides of it.

Rey opens her mouth to speak, and hopes words will form themselves promptly because he waits, head bowed, as if waiting for the executioner's strike, and she has no idea what to say to break this terrible silence.

And then it comes to her.

"We should give this ship a name."

* * *

"A name?" Kylo repeats, stunned, lifting his gaze to her own.

"Uh-huh." Rey plonks herself back in the pilot seat and waits, expectantly, for him to agree.

"A name." Kylo huffs once more. He's not sure whether to be relieved or mortified. "It's just a ship. One designed primarily to transport me between even larger ships."

Or land upon the planets I wish to subjugate, he thinks in the most guilty and tightly-shielded part of his head. And then aloud, "a name is just… pointless sentiment."

"Don't be ridiculous." Rey shoots forward in the seat as her enthusiasm takes hold. "All ships need a name. They run better that way."

"Right," Kylo raises a brow. This woman will never cease to confound him.

Leaning back against the headrest, he stares up at the cockpit's central support beam. The air stirs as Rey begins to pace. The Force itself seems to stir with the energy she evokes. He suspects her vibrancy is going to be the death of him. He suspects it might not be an altogether terrible way to go.

If he's honest with himself, a small part of him feels pride in her enthusiasm for his ship. An even smaller part of him wonders if she might choose to stay if she names it. Like the taming of a pet.

"And what would you name it?" he says finally. At least, it won't do any harm to play along.

"The Happabore?"

"Absolutely not," he snorts, regretting his compliance in an instant. "I wouldn't even insult an AT-AT with a name like that."

"Skittermouse?"

"Skitter… I don't know where you get these names from but," he squeezes the bridge of his nose, "please stop."

"They're creatures from Jakku," Rey says, indignant, "and they're the only type I know. Asides from Porgs. And some poor beast called a Thala-siren from which Master Skywalker drank green milk."

"He drank…." Kylo presses the back of his hand to his mouth, "actually, no. That doesn't surprise me in the least."

"Well, it surprised _me_ ," Rey blanches.

"Hmm." Rapping his fingers upon the dash, Kylo reflects on her other revelation. The one in which he discovers that beyond the dirt rock she grew up on, and the dirt rock Luke hid upon, she really knows little of the galaxy. "Well, remind me to take you to Ajan Kloss sometime."

He doesn't see Rey's reaction to his words, but he feels the tension thicken in the air. Of course, how could he forget that the Resistance has been holing up upon his familial planet since Crait?

"I wish you could take me there," she says softly, "your mother would love to see you again."

"Rey…" He groans her name into his palms as he folds over upon himself. But then a new thought occurs to him. A way to use this to his advantage.

"You know that I've known where the Resistance has been hiding for some time," he begins, "you said yourself that you trust me to keep the information from the First Order."

"Uh-huh," she hesitates, recoiling slightly as if fearing a trap.

"So if you trust me with _that_ , you should trust me when I say I'll keep you safe - that I'll return you to the Falcon. That I won't let…" He stops. Levelling her with a stare. "You should trust me."

Poised on a knife's edge, he watches the emotions flit across Rey's face. The arguments she half-forms before discarding them. It occurs to him that if it were anyone else, he'd use this information more savagely. Blackmail for compliance, perhaps. But not with Rey. Never with Rey. Besides, he's snared her. He can see it in the resolution that sets itself upon her face.

"The Ripper Raptor," she says suddenly.

He blinks. "That's ridiculous." And then after a beat, "the Raptor will do."

He turns away then. Before the smile on her face undoes him. "Now, I've let you name the ship. I have one thing to ask in return."

From his peripheral, he sees her shoulders sag. It's like watching a flower wilt.

"What?" The drops from her like a weight. Dull. Bottomless. Borne of a breathless exhalation. He wonders just what it is she dreads him to ask.

"Do you know how to reprogram a droid?"

* * *

 _ **Chapter Endnote:** Thank you for the support and feedback that has been coming through - you have no idea how much I appreciate it, and how it helps to keep the motivation flowing!_

 _I'm 6 days out from having to hand in an essay I haven't started, and an original story assignment that I keep starting again. *cue nervous laughter* So... I probably won't have a new chapter of Conversations ready for next week. I am however still posting regular updates of The Enemy as that fic has a few pre-written chapters up its sleeve, so there'll be a mid-week chapter going up tomorrow as well as its regular Sunday uploads. Please check it out if you fancy a tale about post-TLJ Rey and Kylo stranded together on a hostile planet and forced to get along so they don't wind up decorating a Trandoshan trophy room!_

 _Right. Now on with that essay. May the Force be with me. *existential crisis looms*_

 _Oh wait, one last thing. If you're wondering how Kylo knows of the Resistance hiding out on Ajan Kloss, this was revealed back in chapter 12. Tbh I'd completely forgotten that and had written a scene where it was revealed here. Probably just as well I decided last minute to skim previous chapters... and found myself having to undo Chp16's reveal and manoeuvre it into something else. Urgh. (I'm so annoyed - because that reveal was gonna be_ good _!)_


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